In Scattered Bliss Do Our Bodies Lie
by Catheryne
Summary: Historical Chuck/Blair. If hatred had not seeped into his bones he would have woken up still a prince, yet in his own kingdom forgotten. She, on the other hand, came for thrill and found herself in love with a Bass.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I have willed myself to forget that the finale happened. So to ignore it I will hide behind the historical fiction genre which I adore so much. This will occur earlier than the Elizabethan Chair fic Forever and a Day but after the War of the Roses Chair fic Yesterday's Roses.

If you are waiting for the two happy WIP fics, you will need to bear with me as I work through—in my own head—the darkness the characters are in by historical romance therapy. As my longfics are always happy endings, I hope this will put me on the right path.

**In Scattered Bliss Do Our Bodies Lie**

by Catheryne

**Part 1**

He was a prince. He used to be. In the life before this one, he had been a prince. In another existence he had risen to the very top, had kissed the stars and dined in the clouds. And if hatred had not seeped into his bones he would have woken up still a prince, yet in his own kingdom forgotten.

Charles Bass was the son of a man as powerful a noble as he had been fearsome. He had been everything that Bartholomew had wished him to be, and when Chuck won his first tilt in his majesty King Henry's court the pride which sparkled in an old man's eyes was cause for celebration. It was that day that Bartholomew, with a smirk of arrogance that Chuck had often seen grace his lips many times before, placed an arm around his armored shoulders and pulled him towards the younger king.

In title, perhaps they were not princes or kings, but Bartholomew carried himself as well as any king and Chuck was his prince. An earldom was nothing to scoff at, and the earldom with all its honor and nobility was theirs.

"My liege, majesty," Bartholomew called, his familiarity apparent.

And Henry, affable in his manner at the height of his claim to an annulment with the queen, turned and held out his hands in welcome of the rich lord. Even then, young as he was, Chuck noticed the grim line around the king's mouth, could almost see the gold in the kingdom's treasury slowly draining from those cracks on Henry's visage.

"Lord Bass."

"My son."

And Henry turned to the young man, slapped a heavy hand and grinned. "The boy who felled Lennox," the king recognized, much to Chuck's overwhelming pleasure. "I should have known the boy who felled that beast of a man is the spawn of Big Bad Bass." And then Chuck held his breath when the king's eyes slid over his face. Henry's lips curved once he met his eyes again. "And this face is, fortunately, more Evelyn's than yours, Bass."

At that, Bart laughed heartily. "I can be no more thankful than I am for that grace of God."

He had been, he was quite certain, well on his way to becoming the king's favorite.

But Chuck had realized early on that the best things in life could just slip away and be forgotten. On that same night Henry had sent his father on a mission to the pope. "I shall ensure your place in Henry's court, Charles," his father had told him. With a pat on his cheek, Bartholomew swore, as they stood at the docks where they would last be together, "When I return, with the pope's blessing for the king's union to the Boleyn girl, I shall expand our empire."

"To lands as far as our eyes can see," Chuck declared, knowing full well that one vision that his father had for their wealth.

"Lands far beyond," his father added. "You shall not lack for wealth, my son." Nor power. Nor favor with the king.

A lifetime ago, Chuck remembered, it was so full of promise. His mother was in anticipation for Bartholomew's triumphant return. Once his father returned, they would forever be at the right hand of the king who only sought the hand of the girl who had bewitched him. The king's heart was on his sleeve.

Dark-eyed women. Dark brown hair. Lustrous, pure skin. Where Henry's eyes rested on the bosom of Anne Boleyn, Chuck's were drawn to the playful, secretive smile of the young woman behind her. Even as his mother waited for Bartholomew's return, Chuck drew closer and closer still to that girl in the shadows, and he prayed not out of loyalty to the king that his father would succeed in negotiating for the divorce of the king and his Spanish queen.

"Blair," he greeted, as he grasped her elbow and drew her with him towards the columns, pulling her into the shadows and pressing her backwards against the pillar. "You are as lovely as I remember."

Her lips parted; he felt her breath on his face. Her dark lashes intrigued him, infuriated him, titillated him in the way she hid her eyes from his view. "You are ever so forward, Bass."

"And you are a tease."

Her lips curved—his cock jumped. He knew now how Henry could be so bothered, be so very thrown from the kingdom's affairs to his hellish journey to a divorce. Blair had come along with the Boleyns, educated and crafted from the French courts. If she had learned from the same masters as Anne, then Henry was a lost man. She placed a finger on the base of his exposed throat. He swallowed. She told him, "I am no tease. I find myself, however, very drawn to you, my lord."

"Then," he told her, his voice thick with his desire, "come to my bed."

Very gently she pushed at his chest to free herself. "You will wait for me tonight?" she had asked him, very slyly, and he nodded even though she had asked it for nights now and she never came. "Goodbye, my lord."

And as she passed by him he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, and promised as she glided away, "One of these days, Blair, you shall wear my jewels."

And she would be his. One hour home, and he would take them and adorn her in them, declare to the world that he had found his bride. One contract and it would be done, and there would be no escaping each other.

Weeks passed, and he was called to the presence of the king. Chuck appeared before an enraged Henry. At the sight of his mother weeping to the side, and his father's brother stoic by the king, he knew.

The dark shadow of his father's death, and the failure that hung over the king's demand, would follow him home. His gaze went from Henry to the woman sitting beside him, often seen laughing merrily with the handful of ladies that surrounded her. Anne Boleyn's dark eyes shimmered with her fury. Right behind her he could see Blair meet his eyes.

Perished in the Vatican, and not a whisper would slip from beyond those walls to share how it was his father died.

And it was he who first turned away.

"Chuck," she had called to him as he walked away from the court. "Chuck!"

Under those shadows it was dark. He was surrounded by a thousand mad whispers and through them he barely heard her voice. It was not until he felt her hand on his arm that he stopped, that he turned to look at her.

"Stop," she asked him.

"There's nothing here for me."

Under the shadow of Bartholomew's failure, there was no light to see her face. "And what am I?"

His little cocktease, who had been promised jewels he no longer owned, who he had imagined ensconced before a fireplace he no longer had, who would bear the title of which he would soon be stripped.

Her touch he could not feel, even when she cupped his cheek and for the first time spoke to him without that playful grin, without the lilt that so delighted him. "You have me."

And he shook his head, wondering why of all the skills the French court had taught her, it did not teach her this. "I do not."

"Chuck," she said.

"Not now, Blair."

"Then I'll wait," she offered, and he answered with silence.

That was a lifetime ago.

In that life, which ended the day his mother turned to his father's brother, married that man a decade her junior, and committed that sin that took her life, he had lost the fortune his father had meant for him. With one stroke of a pen Henry punished Bartholomew for his failure and signed his wealth to Jack Bass, who had curried favor for himself by becoming Anne's lapdog.

The wisest said, those who were closest to God, that marrying your brother's widow was a sin.

It was a sin that the king himself had committed. He had wed Catherine and thus was cursed without a son. Jack had paid for the sin himself. A month after wedding Evelyn, and taking the lands and the money that Bartholomew had intended to be his son's, Jack was widowed. And because Evelyn warmed another man's bed before Bartholomew began rotting in his grave, no one saw her son in the funeral.

His father's brother, widowed yet wealthy, he thought to himself.

Three years later, the missive was his invitation. The wax seal that held it closed was black, and before he even read it his heart flew with joy. It was the day he had waited three years for, and it had finally arrived. He had grasped the missive in a fist so tight the paper crumpled in his hand. He raised it to his mouth with a kiss.

Jack Bass was dead.

He closed his eyes as he imagined the warm home, so familiar, so treasured. The holdings were humbler now, his gold squandered by his father's brother in his unskilled management. Someday it would once again flourish under the care of the Bass who should have received it. With a sinking feeling he realized, "All gone."

Chuck jumped from his horse and raced up the barren steps, pushed open the heavy doors of his childhood home. The rushes were dirty, not been replaced for months it seemed. It was cold, dank. He heard the dripping water and surveyed the rotted planks of wood that sealed the windows. Black cloth was placed on all the boarded windows in a mark of mourning. A woman scurried from the kitchen with a bowl in her hands.

"Stop," he barked.

The woman stopped in her tracks, then looked up at him wide-eyed. She was a full woman, with cherub cheeks and guileless eyes. Chuck walked forward to her and glanced at the bowl. He placed a finger at the bottom and felt the heat.

"You started a fire." The woman lowered her head in admission. "This holding has no gold, and yet you start a fire for a bowl."

"My lord—"

"Chuck Bass."

"I know, my lord," murmured the maid.

"And you. Who are you?"

Her voice trembled when she answered, "Dorota."

"You mumble. Mumbling is done by those with secrets and lies." He said more loudly, "What is your name?"

"Dorota, my lord."

He nodded. There were no other servants about. At least they did not waste what paltry sum there was. "And you know me."

She nodded. "My lady was informed to expect you, my lord."

"Lady," Chuck whispered.

"The countess, my lord. Lord Jack's wife." His mother had been countess, and now Jack so easily handed the honor to a stranger. And then she stammered, began again. "My lady—Lord Jack's wi—widow."

Chuck paused. His eyes narrowed. Goblin's arse. That dung-ridden goblin arse. The vile son of Lucifer had a wife! It was not in the missive. If it had been he would have assessed the partition of the holdings before he returned. He wondered what stupid woman—as desperately old and fearful of dying alone like his mother perhaps—married Jack Bass's desiccated arse.

"So the bastard married again, some woman he hoped would keel over before he did and leave him wealth to run dry?"

Dorota shook her head. "No, my lord. Lady Bass is young and hale."

Chuck smirked. "So at his age he thought to find himself a young filly to inherit what is not his." Yet what she did not know was she would get nothing. "Not one piece of gold, not a quid."

"Really, Chuck, do you truly need to strike the fear of God in my dear Dorota?"

His furious pounding heart staggered. Chuck's eyes widened. His brows furrowed at the vaguely familiar voice. His gaze slowly turned from the trembling maid and towards the direction of the voice. He looked towards the shadowed figure standing midway down the stairs.

If the windows would have been unboarded, and the ridiculous show of grief removed, then the sun would stream in and it would be easy to see her. But even in the darkness he knew who it was.

"Blair."

At his mention of her name, he wondered if there was a small smile on her face. "Chuck Bass." He confirmed that smile when she rushed down the steps and walked towards him, across the pitifully stinking rushes at their feet. She took off the dark veil over her face, and he noted the heavy, somber garment she wore. She was clothed like a widow. Yet when she looked up at him she was that young girl again, playing at being a coquette.

"I have missed you, Chuck."

In fact, it seemed she played it too well.

And so he returned with, "You married Jack."

She drew in a sharp breath, then frowned. And then, as if it slowly dawned on her, she nodded. Blair took a step back. "I did."

"And I was not invited to the wedding."

At which point, it seemed to him she had read exactly what he felt. Her eyes narrowed, and she lashed, "You were asked to your mother's funeral and you did not come. How can I expect you to grace my wedding?" He flinched. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his chest. "Chuck—"

He raised a hand to silence her. "Just tell me, countess. Do you have a son?" She took a breath, then shook his head. He nodded. "Then you and I shall go to the king and we will know to whom my father's lands shall go."

"Do we need to go to the king, Chuck?"

"I shall not lose again," he told her. She shivered at the cold air, or perhaps it was just the ice in his voice. He noticed the fireplace behind her, where he had once imagined they would sit together. Once in these three years past she had enjoyed that fireplace, sitting with his father's brother perhaps. "Better for you to be informed in court, so you can quickly vanish behind Queen Anne. She can easily help you fish for another titled, landed man. You are so talented, Blair. It would be such shame if you cannot show them your skills."

She looked away. And then, when he said no more, she gathered herself and walked towards the stairs. At the foot of the steps she turned to him, then asked, "Shall I vacate the master's bedroom then, now that you have arrived?"

Once upon a midnight past he had dreamed of laying her on that large bed, and taking the lace and silk and pearls of a wedding dress off her body. He tightened his jaw. "Stay. I would not wish to sleep on sheets you shared with Jack."

When stiffly she walked back up the steps, and he continued, "When you wake, perhaps you can ask for the rushes to be changed, and an extra chamber aired. You are, my lady Bass, unfortunate that you are not a good keeper of a household. This was once elegant, and now my home is in shatters."

He had thought she would continue on, but instead she paused and turned to him with a glare. "If your home is in shatters it is not my fault," she snapped. "Your home was in shambles before I arrived, and your uncle certainly drained my purse to put it to right." Blair huffed, then turned her glare at Dorota. "It is cold, Dorota. Take me my broth, if you please."

"I can help you keep warm, madame!" he called back as she stormed up.

Dorota hurried after her mistress. Chuck stopped her. "Light a fire and heat it again. It's become cool in the air." He looked back up towards the empty steps, then shook his head. "Lady Bass should have steaming soup as hot as her own tongue."

~o~o~o~

"Your history shall not be kind to me," she said in hesitation as she sat on the cushioned seat. Blair looked up at the queen, then smiled faintly to veil her reluctance. "I know it," she said to the earnest young man who dipped a quill into the ink.

"Nonsense," the queen insisted. She walked over to the historian, than patted his back. "Daniel has come highly recommended by Henry. Remember, Blair, people shall remember us by the stories we write."

The scholar looked up from his parchment and assured her, "I only seek to tell the truth, my lady. These stories shall be here long after we die."

Blair cocked her head to the side. Anne tittered and clasped her hands before her chest. "Master Humphrey, we are yet too young to think of dying." She turned to Blair for agreement.

Blair gave the queen a faint smile. "You would think it, majesty," she said. "You have always been the most alive."

"The most happy," Anne added. She tightened a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Life is meant for love and happiness, cherie. It was so in France when we were mere courtiers and it would be more so here when we have the power for anything we desire." And then, the queen leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I shall find my husband and give you some privacy with Master Humphrey."

Blair watched fondly as the light in the room that was the queen flew through the doors. In the silence at her tail, Blair turned to the scholar and asked, "Does the king truly wish for the truth?"

"The king wishes history to be written by his hand," Daniel informed her. "But tell me the truth, Lady Bass, and I shall endeavor to keep most of it. Your husband was the king's favorite. He would be most grateful for your retelling."

"I am not certain then that the king would wish to keep my story." She took a deep breath. "But I shall tell you anyway. And then, Master Humphrey, perhaps you and your friends shall weave it into a story that the king would appreciate."

Daniel shook his head, then put the tip of his quill onto the paper.

"My name is Blair Cornelia Bass, and when I was young my heart was torn from my breast," she told him.

"You are yet young," Daniel prompted.

Blair shook her head. "No," she said. "Not these three years past."

"You are a widow, my lady."

Her lips curved. "I was a widow long before Jack died. I was a widow long before he wed me." She shook her head. With a fond smile, she continued, "I was a young girl, Master Humphrey, newly come from France greeted by my cousin who told me she would soon be queen. I had come for a thrill, Master Humphrey, and what thrill I found."

"A thrill. What thrill, my lady?"

Her voice dropped, and she confided, "I fell in love with a Bass."

Daniel Humphrey smiled, because he had supposed it from the beginning. Still, he wrote it. He began to ask, but there was an abrupt knock on the door. Blair looked up and saw Chuck. He glanced at Daniel, then dismissed him at once. "The king shall give us an audience in an hour, countess," Chuck told her.

"Courtesy is a virtue I learned in Paris," she said, for Daniel's benefit. "Just because I have lived here three years does not mean barbaric London has severed it from me. For your story, Master Humphrey," she told him. And then, to Chuck, she said, "This is Daniel Humphrey, who writes my story at the king's behest. He would like a history of his court, and Jack was an integral part of it when he was alive."

"And he is dead," he said, and she almost heard the bitter glee. He said to her, "Let us conjure stories of dear Jack slaying dragons and saving maidens."

"Master Humphrey only writes the truth."

"Pity," Chuck drawled. "We know you have a talent for weaving lies, my lady."

The scholar abruptly stepped forward at the perception of disrespect. Blair shook her head and placed a hand on the historian's arm. "Forgive him." To Daniel, she said, "And this is Lord Bass."

Daniel glanced at Blair in surprise. "A Bass," he repeated, then glanced at the script on his parchment.

"Aye, Master Humphrey. The last Bass, in fact."

Daniel nodded in understanding, but corrected her, "Apart from you, Lady Bass."

"Oh," she said at that reminder.

Chuck turned to Blair, then said, "A half an hour, and we need to be seated in the waiting chamber. The king shall not wait for us. I find patience is not a virtue those in the court possess." He turned to leave, then closed the door behind him.

tbc

Testing with the first part. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Wow. Thanks for the warm welcome of this new story.

**Part 2**

**1533**

Sixteen years old, and she was walking along the ornate halls of Henry Tudor's court. Blair's heart pumped in her chest, so strongly she was afraid she would faint. Still, she held her chin high and commanded each foot to step before the other one. Her father would believe none of it. And her mother—her mother would eternally be grateful to the Boleyn family for providing this privilege.

She hardly remembered Anne's face, and yet Anne had paved the way for her to serve in the French court when she was fourteen and now—

Now Anne called her to be a maid of honor in her own court. Anne! She had been from a family as modest as Blair's, and now she would be queen! Blair's lips curved in pleasure and excitement. Her parents were in France growing grapes for wine and she, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, was going to sit in the right hand of the queen of England.

Blair spied the flurry of the servants taking silver candelabras from a room. Horses arrived out in the courtyard. She peered through the glass and saw chickens and boar and deer brought in. It shall be as grand as Anne wrote in her letter. Blair walked faster towards the chambers.

The guard bowed as she stepped into the room. Her lips parted at the scent of burning jasmine, and remembered faintly the scent surround her on the day she met Anne and the beautiful Mary Boleyn. She had been six then, and the Boleyn sisters visited their vineyard to say their farewells to Eleanor.

"_Where are you going, cousin?" she had asked Mary. Blair touched the golden locks of Mary's hair and found it the most gorgeous treasure in the world._

"_To England, my darling. It is time to return home."_

"_Where is England?"_

_And it was Anne who answered, "Across the Channel, ma cherie."_

"_Why is home so far away?"_

"_England is where we were born, Blair. It is where your mother was born. That is home." Anne had regarded her with amusement as Blair took more of Mary's blonde locks in her hand. "Someday you will see England, and you shall know how wonderful it is to be home."_

"_I hear Paris is beautiful," she told Anne._

"_Nothing is more beautiful than home," Anne pointed out. "You shall see, Blair. Do not be content with anything less. When you see England, it shall be when it is at its most beautiful, because you deserve no less. You, after all, have Howard blood like I do."_

"_Then I shall see England, and I will have hair as pretty as Mary's."_

"_You shall have everything you want," she assured Blair._

"_Anne, dear, do not fill the child's head with drivel," Mary cautioned._

_Anne winked at Blair and wrapped her in an embrace. "Cousin, I shall see you on the other side."_

Seated in the grandest seats upon the pedestal, it was difficult to miss them. Henry Tudor, almost revered in the great fear and hatred in the whispers of many in the French court. He was a powerful man, even seated. Blair spied the woman sitting beside him. At once, the queen stood and a large smile spread across her face.

When the queen stepped off her dais, Blair saw the intent gaze of the man standing behind her.

"Ma cherie!" At once, the king appeared right beside Anne who had wrapped her in a warm embrace. Anne turned to the king, and informed him, "Henry, this is my dear cousin Blair. She was such a tiny thing when I left France, Henry! Look at her."

Henry nodded, and said, "Welcome to my court, Lady Blair. Please, make yourself at home."

Blair dropped to a low curtsy. When she rose, her eyes landed once again on the dark-haired man who had stood behind Anne. Blair forced her attention back to Anne. "And you, majesty, are heavy with child."

Anne gave a secret smile and whispered, "I am not queen yet. You are here for my coronation. You, Blair, shall be my maid of honor."

The prospect was heady, and such honor that she had never thought was possible in this lifetime. Blair gasped aloud.

Anne held her hand. "Did I not swear to you, Blair, that you shall see England at its most beautiful? My lord husband shall ensure tomorrow, this kingdom is at its very best."

The man now walked towards one of the servants who bore a decanter of sweet wine. Blair followed his movement will her eyes. The king had returned to his seat and now was in deep conversation with his adviser. The man filled his goblet and drank. And then, while his lips glistened with his drink, he raised the goblet towards her. Blair drew a quick breath.

Anne's brows rose and the queen glanced in the direction that Blair looked. "Lord Charles Bass. Arundel's heir." Anne pulled Blair aside and said, "Blair, young, courtly love is danger." And Blair had heard of Percy, and her cousin's broken heart.

"Who speaks of love?" Blair denied, although her young heart had never been more aflutter.

The young man walked towards them, and bowed to Anne. "Forgive the intrusion, majesty. I have come to be introduced."

"Of course, Lord Bass. Lady Blair, from my mother's side of the family. She joins our court from two years serving the French queen. Blair, you have the pleasure of meeting Lord Charles, son of the earl of Arundel Lord Bartholomew." He kissed Blair's hand. When he did not leave, Anne added, "Is there anything else, my lord?"

Lord Bass took it as dismissal and bowed, then moved away. Anne grinned. "He is positively infatuated."

Blair smiled. "And so am I." She turned to her cousin and declared, "I think, Anne, I shall love him."

"If you want him, darling, so you shall have him."

Blair nodded. She was in England, and will participate in the glorious event of a queen's coronation. And she had just met the most intriguing man.

"I would have you dance with Lord Nathaniel." Anne pointed him out in the chambers. "I remember you had a fondness for gold hair."

"Another man. Why?" Blair asked.

"Because, Blair, this is how you will make Lord Bass chase you." When Blair looked on with skepticism, Anne expounded, "Did you ever believe in your life, Blair, that a Boleyn girl would be queen of England?" When Blair shook her head, Anne nodded in satisfaction. The queen patted Blair's cheek. "Trust me."

"But," Blair retorted, "I do not want to be queen."

"But you do want the Earl of Arundel's only son. Arundel—the oldest peerage in this kingdom. Howard or Boleyn, Blair, he is far above your station." Anne placed a hand on her shoulder. "Show him you are desirable, and you shall him like I have Henry."

**1536**

Three years had passed and not much else had changed. The very first day she met the King, she had been most nervous and worried of the occasion. Henry was an imposing character, and despite never having seen the man before Blair had assumed, rightly so, what large presence he had. In the large chambers where there were introduced, Henry commanded every corner.

Despite the bitter hatred that Chuck claimed against her now, Blair was eternally grateful for the hand that wrapped around her elbow as they walked towards the throne.

"Thank you," she murmured when she would have stumbled, and Chuck's grip stayed her and allowed her to keep what dignity she had.

Blair glanced at him, and for that small moment she recognized the playful smirk spread across his face. "I would not have you sprawled on His Majesty's floor, with your skirt over your head." And she realized that she was now standing right in that very spot where three years ago she first laid eyes on Chuck Bass—and he her.

Perhaps little memories gave him fondness for her—fondness he had since lost.

"It pleases us, Lady Blair," she heard from the throne, spoken warmly by the woman seated beside the king, "that you have come all the way from Arundel Castle to see us." Blair lowered her head, grateful for her Anne's unquestionable affection. "You have long been absent from court and the eyes of your sovereign."

Beside Anne, Henry regarded her with furrowed brows as he struggled to remember her. Blair held her breath, as terrified still of the man as she had been then. Henry had always favored Chuck's father until his most horrid death failing on a task for the king. True, in his impassioned rage Henry had stripped Bartholomew Bass of his wealth. But the king was the king and had frequently spoken warmly of Bartholomew, even wondered aloud what had happened to the son from whom he had denied the title.

Between Blair and Chuck, Blair knew, Henry would favor the young man from whom he had taken much.

"Come, Lady Blair, and kiss my hand," Anne instructed. "Our hearts have missed you so."

Blair made her way towards the throne. Chuck's hand on her elbow fell away. When she was near, she dropped to a curtsy before Henry, then approached Anne. "Queen Anne," she greeted. Blair took Anne's hand and kissed fondly Anne's hand. The queen leaned close to her, in her heavy, jeweled dress, and placed a kiss on her cheeks. "You look positively horrified, my dear," Anne whispered into her ear. "Your place is secure. Trust me. I am the reason we are here, remember? Take heart, Blair."

Blair returned to her place beside Chuck. When she faced the king and queen this time, Chuck did not place an assuring hand on her body.

"My ministers tell me that we have an issue with the holdings of the deceased Lord Bass, with Arundel Castle," Henry declared, assessing the two before him. "Lord Charles, we have not seen you in a while," he said, conveniently neglecting to add that Chuck had not appeared before the court since he was stripped of his birthright. "It was a sad day in court when your father passed. I respected him so."

To Blair, he said, "And you, my dear, so young and beautiful and widowed so early." Henry turned to Anne, and clasped his queen's hand. "I shall endeavor not to pass so young, my dearest, that you shall not find yourself a lovely, rich widow so soon in life."

Anne smiled and patted Henry's hand. "You shall outlive us all, my love."

"And so we have a dowager countess without a son, and the son from whom we took the lands," Henry murmured.

"Lord Jack held the title last, and used Lady Blair's monies to replenish his coffers," Anne reminded the king.

"And she has no title in England."

"Not then," Anne said. "But it was, I believe, for Lord Jack a fair trade."

Henry guffawed. "Of course Jack felt it was fair trade. Look at her, my dear," Henry said, gesturing to Blair. "With her purse and such a comely appearance, any man would take her."

It was at this that Chuck intervened. "Your grace," he said. Blair glanced at him and noticed the tick in his jaw. "I would ask that you keep in mind my lord father in this decision."

"Died in vain, if you will remember, Henry," Anne added. "My poor Elizabeth was almost born a bastard."

And so Chuck struck where it would most appeal to the king. "Would you deprive my heritage its male heir, your grace? If I may be so bold," he told the king, "should my family line lose its titles and its lands so that a childless widow may in the future give it sons that have none of the Basses' blood?"

It was a sore point with the queen, one that Blair knew would speak to the monarch.

Anne, finally, showed her sharp tongue that many in the court so disliked. "And do you propose to throw her into the streets, Lord Bass, now that Jack Bass has depleted her worth and left her penniless?"

Chuck glanced at Blair sideways. "Having known Lady Bass well, I am certain she will land on her feet, with a man far nobler and richer than Jack."

Blair struggled to keep mum, to trust in her cousin as she had asked. But she had been out into the streets and it was horrid. London was unlike Paris, and she would not survive. Penniless and widowed, she would likely end up with only one option—and despite the reputation that preceded her because of her relation to Mary and Anne, Blair would never wish to trade her honor for survival. "Your grace," Blair said, "if you will hear me." Anne turned to her with wide eyes. Even Chuck looked at her in surprise.

"And so," Henry said in a low tone, "she speaks."

Blair swallowed. "I have it in good faith," she said, her voice faint at first, but growing stronger as she continued, "that Lord Jack wished for me to stay. He said it on his dying day, and servants in Arundel shall speak to its truth. Majesty, I am countess and it must not change for the sole reason that Bartholomew's heir happened to return when he wished." She took a deep breath, and saw Anne nod. She took a deep breath, and said, "Who is to say my lord Charles shall not again abandon his home on a whim?"

Chuck tore his gaze from her, then focused his attention on the king. Blair bit her lower lip

"The peerage is dependent on the castle, your majesty," Blair stated from another king's proclamation on the transfer of the peerage. "And I hold Arundel castle."

Henry leaned down, with his elbows on his knees. He regarded the two as he rubbed his chin with thoughtful fingers. "You, young children, bring trouble to my mind."

"I apologize, majesty," Chuck answered gravelly. "But I shall not stand for a stranger from France to steal what is rightfully mine."

Henry made a clucking sound. "You were winning up until that time, Bass," Henry intoned.

Chuck threw Blair a look. Then his eyes widened at the remembrance. Blair said, in muted glee, "Strangers from France, with English blood, have every right to be in this room, and claim this kingdom, Chuck."

"I thank you, my dear," Anne proclaimed, and Blair could hear from her voice that the queen knew they had already won.

Henry cleared his throat. "Very well," he said. "I have made my decision." Blair held her breath. Beside him, Chuck straightened and prepared himself for defeat and rejection. Henry gestured towards Blair. "Here we have the lovely widow of the last earl, who from all accounts, has made the Bass estate her home. And the people that remain adore you, my dear. You have given them your wealth. Sadly, it was not enough to revive the land." The king turned to Chuck. "And here is the prodigal son, who walked away from us when he was displeased by the king's command."

Blair saw the moment Anne's eyes lit up.

"You deserve to live in your late husband's land, countess," the king declared, "and to take it with you to gain the interest of your next husband. You no longer have your gold, so you will need the title and those lands."

"Your grace!" Blair exclaimed gratefully.

The king held up his hand in silence. "And you have been given very little," he told Chuck.

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "I shall take what I have and build on it, majesty. I am Bartholomew Bass' son."

Henry nodded. "And you have. I have learned of the gold you have made in the Continent, Lord Bass. You are, in fact, Bartholomew's spawn. And I have long regretted taking your birthright from you." The king glanced at Blair first, before continuing, "Do you understand that Lady Bass cannot find a husband now that her dowry is gone?" Chuck did not respond.

Henry asked Blair, "And you, my dear, understand that those lands will die under your care-without the hand of a man, or the gold for seeds and cattle."

Blair supposed that she already knew what the king would declare before he even did. She knew the moment Chuck did as well. Her eyes fell to the hand that reached for hers. His grip on her fingers was tight, hurtful. She closed her eyes and tears seeped out.

"Lady Blair, Lord Charles—"

"No," the queen whispered. "My lord—"

"You are the answer to each other's dilemma. On the morrow, you shall wed." Henry turned to his left, and motioned to his guard. "Call the archbishop."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Sooner or later the past would fall off the story… You will slowly peel away the skin and also find out the motivations. You guys are the best.

**Part 3**

**1536**

It should have been simple. Once he learned of his uncle's death, and Chuck decided to sail back to England and reclaim his home, he had foolishly assumed that his blood was thick enough, and the king consumed enough by his guilt, that Chuck could state his name and receive from the king the endowments that should have been his always. In the corner of his mind Chuck held the foolish dream that once he had back his lands and titles he would search for the slip of a girl who was the vision in his fantasies. And he had been real and grounded that Chuck accepted the full probability that he would never find her again—or if he did, she would have been off and married, seated in some comfortable castle or manor, bearing little children with curved red lips and dark, dark hair for some favored son.

How it was that they had arrived to this, he had no comprehension.

Yet his fears were expected, and they had come true. She was married—it was foolish to believe that her beauty would have remained free for marriage these three years past. She had married and was ensconced in one of the oldest and the grandest, the most noble house in England.

His own.

After the king's proclamation it was Chuck that paid a curt bow to the king and the queen, then walked out of the chambers. He heard the noise behind him, curt, apologetic, breathless, and knew she hurried after him.

"Chuck!" she called to him. When he did not stop, she called out even louder. "Do not walk away from me, Bass," she warned.

When he stopped and turned around, he could keep nothing from his face, and she stopped at the sight of him. He regarded her with such betrayal and she bit her lower lip, hesitated. "Well?" he prompted her.

"We have traveled far from Arundel to the court, Chuck, and yet we have not sat and spoken. Perhaps this is the chance."

How many opportunities they had let pass. He gave her a bitter smile, and told her, "But we have a lifetime of conversation, do we not? Henry made certain of it."

Her hands fisted at her sides. "If you have no wish to marry—"

He shook his head. "No." Chuck would not allow her to take it all. He continued, "Never let is be said that I refuse to marry you, Lady Blair. Not when you have everything that is mine. I shall not be the cause of my name vanishing from history, of my heritage changing hands. My name shall not die because of you."

"I have no wish for it," she told him. Slowly, she walked towards him. "Your name—your heritage. It is precious to me." Blair reached for his hand and covered it with both of hers. Chuck watched as she brought her hand to her lips and kissed his skin.

And despite the treachery of her innocent face, he was taken by the gentleness of her mouth. So he fought against it, and claimed, "Because it is yours now." 

"You know," she insisted, and how he wanted to believe, "do you not, that I have no wish but for your good? We cannot marry if you despise me."

Little pearls and amethyst studs glinted in her hair. Once upon a midnight, in those lonely nights in Florence, Chuck Bass remembered that hair and how it felt on his chest, how they smelled around him. She had been the saving grace, that memory he latched on to in the nights when he would have as easily slipped into death and thanked the Lord for that respite.

His little innocent, his brazen tease, all his and no one else's, completely devoted.

For a brief moment he was caught in memories that proved false. His hand turned within her grip and he held on to her. She blinked in surprise, and a smile curved her lips. He felt the pull on his heart, and Chuck lowered his face towards her.

Until he felt the hard rock on her finger, looked down. And his mother's ring winked at him.

It was a punch in the gut. His eyes flew to her wide ones. "Countess, you disgust me," he admitted.

Blair pulled her hand out of his and exclaimed, "You have no right!"

"How have I not this right when you are wearing my mother's diamond?" Chuck demanded. "She is the real countess, not a slip of a girl whom Jack wished to fuck."

The shocked pain in her eyes gave him pause, only for a brief moment. And then he felt the hard sting of the slap across his face.

"Well, countess," he murmured, "it seems we shall have a merry life together."

"You know," she whispered. "You know I have no choice in the matter. Should I refuse to marry you, everything I have is taken from me."

"Should you refuse, the queen shall save you after a night with the king. Despite his power, the man is ruled by his cock."

"You speak treason," she whispered harshly, and her fingers dug deep into his arm. Almost, he thought, as if afraid, as if she truly wished to caution him. "Hush."

"They shall grant you a purse enough that you can find a respectable man. So give me back what is mine."

"I shall not," she said.

"It is not difficult for you, to warm a man's bed in exchange for what you need."

"You dare call me a whore?"

"I call you how you are. Deny to me that you married Jack out of your own need."

Her lips thinned, but he heard no denial drop from her tongue. "Do you truly think, my lord, that leaving is as easy to every other soul as it was for you?"

He winced. But it was long ago, so long ago, and he refused to believe she carried still its pain. He warned, "Then you come to a loveless marriage, and you suffer its consequences."

It was as difficult to turn his back on her then as it was the night he left. Yet her eyes swam with tears and departure than was his only salvation. Chuck stilled himself when he heard the hitch in her breath, and he feared she would break. To his wonder, he heard instead a muffled curse, and in her rough voice she muttered, "I loathe you." He stopped, turned his head, and saw her tearful, but with her chin up. "There were nights, my lord, these years past that I loathed you and could not remember why, but I remember well now. I loathe you with my whole heart."

His jaw tightened, and quietly he replied, "And there were nights when I remembered you, and imagined I loved you." Lie, because she was always in his mind. "I wish I could forget them now."

And for once, just once, Blair thought, it was she who should turn away. She turned around and kept herself from running despite her desire to be gone. She mustered her dignity and walked away from him slowly, and pushed through the doors to the queen's chambers. The queen had retired with the king, ailing still that night with a sickness blessing that all prayed to be a son.

She hastily wiped away her tears when she saw her friend, another of Anne's ladies, who had joined Anne's service shortly after Chuck Bass' departure. At the sight of her, Serena's brows furrowed and she reached out with a handkerchief in her hand. Blair looked at it in weariness and sighed.

"Truly, Serena?" she ascertained. "Shall we speak when words heal no wounds?"

"Speaking of it should not hurt. It helps, I find, when you tell another soul."

She was closest to her at court, after Anne. Blair took Serena's handkerchief and they proceeded to walk together towards their own chambers. "He called me a whore," Blair confided to her friend.

Serena glanced at Blair in surprise. "A whore?" she demanded. At Blair's nod, Serena's eyes narrowed. "Londonfolk call the queen a whore every day," Serena claimed, "yet she is with the King of England. She has the princess Elizabeth and another child mayhap." To lighten her statement, Serena continued, "The court thinks me a whore, I know it."

Blair knew the names, was terrified of the scandal. Serena van der Woodsen had a lineage as powerful and worthy of the Basses, and with the proper politicking she would land a man of fine figure and handsome lands. She was unafraid of her reputation. Perhaps it was why she was freer.

"Does it pain you?" Blair asked.

"Every day is a battle," Serena admitted, "but I adore the court, and it is worth all the pain to be here than languish in a country home." Serena asked her, "Is it worth it, Blair? Tell the queen if it is not, and this shall be gone."

Chuck was right. She had no doubt. One word from Anne and she would be granted her own property that she might find another man. Anne herself had whispered it to her right after the king's proclamation. But that, Chuck need not know. He had sworn instead a hellish marriage. Anne had told her of the ridicule, the pain she suffered from the people's hatred. It all was worth the pain, Anne said, when you had the power, the love, of a king. Tearfully, she nodded. "Such is the sacrifice to love a man like Lord Bass."

She bid her friend farewell, and turned to the other wing when she realized that she still held Serena's handkerchief in her hand. Blair rushed to the wing where Serena vanished and there she caught a glimpse of golden hair. She hurried after the figure and turned then saw the lady fully in the embrace of the king. Blair's eyes widened. She felt the hand close around her wrist. She felt herself pulled into the shadows.

She blinked up at her friend, who held a finger to her lips.

"Hush. Make no sound, for your own sake!" Serena said in a hushed whisper.

"But it is the king!" Blair contested. "With a woman who is not the queen."

Serena glared at her. "He is no saint, Blair. His majesty conceived Princess Elizabeth while he was married to Queen Catherine."

"Because he loved Anne!" Blair said. "I've read his letters to my cousin. He loved her."

"And so does he love Lady Jane," Serena shared.

Jane! She was in Anne's service as well, and it turned out she served more than the queen. Now Jane… Jane was a true whore!

"I must tell Anne," Blair decided.

"Blair, if this news be heard, it shall hasten your demise, and put the queen in hell," Serena told her. "She is with child. Please."

Sacrifice, she thought, for the love of a powerful man. Blair peered through the curtains, and decided that not all love was worth the sacrifice.

**1533**

Her heart beat, and it was a funny racing beat. It was a beat of hooves of horses tardy for a parade, noisy like on the cobbled stone streets in Paris. She laughed softly, giddily, when the young lord gave her a long look, and smiled that smile at her.

"Playful," the queen commented, with one word assessing Lord Bass.

"Dangerous," Blair added. She took a deep breath, and released it in one sigh. Her heart sank a little when Chuck took to a group of ladies and smirked when one raised herself up to whisper into his ear.

Anne fanned more quickly that she may hide the conversation from prying eyes. "A dangerous man of noble blood," Anne said with appreciation. "A young girl can do worse on her first moon in the English court."

For days it had been flirtatious smiles and longing looks. In weeks she thrilled when his hand brushed hers at the supper table. And then, in the grand ball, he had politely asked the king to allow him the grace of dancing with the queen's lady.

"What shall I do?" she asked Anne breathlessly. Blair needed the calm, calculating mind of Anne. Anne's mind had served her well. Someday she would have a mind as wonderful as Anne's, and understood that her own was sluggish, flighty then.

"Be coy," was Anne's advise. "You have one thing all men want." And knowing Anne, she knew the prize she spoke of was the one the king paid ever so dearly for. "Whether he shall bed you or not is a decision that is in your hands, no one else's. No matter how powerful the man."

"To bed me. That is what he wants."

And Anne, in the greatest compliment, patted her cheek and said, "You have my face and the youth that from me is gone." Anne's hand curved around her full stomach. "You have the body which the king's heir has robbed from me. What man does not desire to bed you, Blair?"

"Truth be told, Anne, I want Lord Bass."

Anne took Blair's hand, then turned her attention to the other side of the grand ballroom. She nodded towards one of the men within the courtiers' circle. "Cherie, I have asked Henry to consider a match between Lord Nathaniel and yourself."

"Anne!"

"It is your but your first month in court. Lord Bass is fine, and a worthy infatuation. Please yourself with many admirers, but my responsibility is to ensure you have a respectable future. Lord Nathaniel Archibald shall give you this future."

Blair assessed the young man. He was handsome, and he appeared clean of body and gentle of spirit. Her gaze flickered to Lord Bass, who carried himself with such arrogance it was unsightly, yet beautiful for behold. "Lord Bass is from a good, noble blood."

"He is. Lands and history they boast, but little gold," said Anne. She nodded towards Charles. "And he is not prepared to wed, with the ladies of the court who come in and out of his chambers, I hear. Lord Nathaniel is titled, monied, and eager for hearth and home. I swore to your mother I shall give you the very best in England—and you shall have him."

"He wishes to wed me?"

Anne grinned, and nodded. "Did I not tell you, Blair, that no one would refuse you?" When Blair did not smile back, she said, "Meet Nathaniel. If you do not want him, then I shall find you another," promised Anne, showing to her the same single-minded dedicated she showed to ensure her own sister received the highest stipend she could take from the English coffers.

Blair nodded, then picked up her skirt and walked down from beside the queen. She walked towards Nathaniel. Halfway across the room, her way was cut when Lord Bass stopped before her. Despite the discourtesy, Blair fought a smile and asked, "Do you realize, Lord Bass, that you are in my path?"

"The ballroom is grand, and I am not in the only way."

The corner of her lips turned up. "I beg to differ, my lord. You are quite obviously in the way." Be coy, flirtatious, empowered, Anne taught her. "In fact, but for you, I would be dancing in Lord Archibald's arms."

Chuck grinned, and with the equivalent pose claimed, "Then I shall open my arms wide and pray I have blocked the way completely."

She glanced at Anne, who watched from her throne with exasperation. Blair shook her head at her cousin, then returned to her conversation with Lord Bass. "You speak, my lord, as if you want me."

"You speak," he parried, "as thought that were even a real question."

Her eyebrows raised. "Then why do you chase after these skirts around you, when I am nearby?"

He raised his head, and she could see his gaze assess the various women around them. The number of those he looked at filled her with dread. He shook his head, then focused back on her. "Because you are you," he told her softly, making no sense but for the next ,"and I fear—I am afraid, my dear, that I am not prepared for you."

It would fill Daniel Humphrey with wonder, three years later, when she would tell him, "I decided I loved him then."

The week after was the coronation of Anne as queen consort. It was the precise ceremony, pushed back over and over, that Anne had promised to show her. Blair rode a magnificent carriage to Westminster and saw, in its full glory, what Anne had achieved for herself. Be coy; marriage or nothing. A woman can take it all with a good head on her shoulders and the tenacity of the fiercest cat. Anne became queen of England and when St Edward's crown was placed upon her head, the queen met Blair's eyes.

And Blair could take anything she wanted.

They were so alike, yet so different still. In the banquet that followed, Blair went to her cousin and confessed, "I fear I will lose him."

"Then lose him," Anne told her. But the queen and Blair were happy in different ways. Anne's hand fluttered to her heavy stomach, and Blair's eyes fell to the swell. "You want to keep the man." Anne shook her head. "A man, Blair, that you have known but for a while."

And her eyes stayed with the swell of Anne's salvation. Blair reached her hand and felt the child under her palm. "I am in love with him, more so than I have been with any man."

"Hush, ma cherie. We do not fall for any man more than the man falls for us."

Stripped of all that he had, he was nameless, powerless. Chuck Bass had become no one so quickly, and Blair's heart broke when he lost himself quicker than she lost him. She followed him to his chambers and found him. Without leave she stepped inside and walked towards him.

"I told you," he whispered, "did I not? I shall leave."

She shook her head, pushed his hands away from the belongings on the bed. Blair cupped his face and allowed him to see the tears on her cheeks, without shame.

"I need to leave," he repeated softly.

And she nodded, because she could not keep him. Silently, she raised herself on the tips of her toes and kissed his lips. He tasted the salt on her mouth, and with a throaty growl he grabbed her hips and pulled her up against him. She could have imagined it, but she thought for one brief moment the wetness on his face came from his own tears instead of hers.

Blair shivered when his thumbs drew delicate patterns on her navel, and mewled when he pushed the bodice of her gown and kissed her collarbone.

"I know you are untouched, despite the games," he whispered. "I shall keep you intact."

"I have no wish for it," she gasped.

"Blair—"

Her fingers worked to remove his clothes, and he lifted her into his arms. "You know not what you ask."

He laid her on the bed, and Blair pulled him over her. His hands moved up her thighs and his thumb grazed her slit. "I know," she whispered into his ear. His finger slipped inside her, and her teeth bit down on his ear. "I think I love you," she confessed.

He raised himself up on his elbows, looking down at her in puzzled surprise. Delight. Disbelief. "Blair."

She arched her opening up, searching for more. She was burning, and burning only for him. "Please."

He held his breath, brushed a thumb wet with her own moisture across her cheek. "Swear you will wait."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Swear you will return."

"I swear," he breathed, the air hot into her ear. "One moon, two, to heal the wounds, and I swear..."

She wrapped her arms tight across his back and returned, "Then I swear."

And then, their cries joined when he thrust inside her. It was pain and ecstasy, delicious and burned in her brain for the next sleepless nights. She woke at the noise and found herself on the cool sheets, alone. She grabbed the blankets and looked up at the two men, Anne's own, who burst into the room.

"Leave," an authoritative command rang.

The guards left, and Blair sighed in relief at the sight of her cousin. She saw the disappointment that flickered in Anne's face at the sight. Blair followed the direction of her gaze and saw the blankets that she had pulled revealed the drops of blood and fluid smeared on the sheets.

In a hard voice, she asked, "Did I not tell you, Blair, not to give him what he desires until you have what you want?"

Despite the anger, Blair heard the pity, and knew that he was gone. "We are not the same, Anne. Perhaps I am weaker than you. Perhaps I want him more."

"And he has gone," Anne said, confirming what she knew, yet the pain was as shocking as if she was not aware. "What a foolish child you are, Blair," the queen intoned.

"Anne, I am no child."

She would dream of the night, that wonderful night.

The queen nodded towards the remnants of her virginity. "If you believe that means you are no child, then you are even more naïve than I supposed." And then, she continued, "I must have been wrong. Perhaps you are not ready for the English court as yet."

It was at that point of the story, when three years later she relayed it to Daniel, that the scholar paused and asked, "Lady Blair, do you truly wish for this immortalized?" And she took the parchment from his hand and read the words he wrote, then confirmed it.

When all around her there were lies, mayhap there was a place for truth yet.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I hope you continue to enjoy.

**Part 4**

If there ever was a promise to keep, Chuck Bass knew it was the one he swore to his father long ago, after Bartholomew had died and Chuck had been stripped of all that his father worked to leave him. One of these days, he thought, he would return to Henry's court and reclaim Bartholomew's seat. The Arundel name would be his once more, and the lands would flourish under his care.

Chuck had taken it upon himself to visit the Lord of the Wardrobe, with Anne's blessing, to select a teal blue jeweled gown for Blair. The queen assessed the gown, and selected pearl drop earrings and sapphires to match.

"There, my lord. Is this all that you imagined for your bride's wedding dress?"

"No," was his simple answer.

He had imagined embroidered pearls on white corset, a heavy skirt over billowing silk. And instead of the crown's jewels she would have worn a pearl drop pendant, simple instead of ornate, delicate strands of gold falling from her ears. He had imagined Blair in his arms, on the master's bed in Arundel, sweet and pliant and tearful in their reunion.

"Then again, my queen, none of this is what I had imagined."

"You are disappointed," Anne said for him. He could not deny the truth to her comment, so he nodded. Sharply, Anne continued, "Stop. You are not what I had imagined for my cousin. Not this."

Chuck's gaze snapped to the queen, who eyed him with fierce, dark eyes. "Then you can change this yet. Your majesty, speak to the king."

"When my husband makes a decision, it is done. No will is more powerful than his."

If he were willing to leave Arundel, then he would be free from the king's decree.

He was disgusted by the state that Jack had left the castle, and even more frustrated by the complete lack of power that he held. But Bart did not raise a humble, wilting child. No, Bartholomew Bass left behind a legacy, and a son that took pride in his noble heritage and blood just as blue and royal as those who surrounded the king. In some respects, if one were to trace his lineage, he could draw a claim to the throne himself. Yet the wars between the Lancastrians and the Yorkists have rendered civil wars anathema. He had no patience for bloody conflicts. But Chuck would fight the good fight to take his part in court.

Blair was a measly part of this life. Her lack of faith did not debilitate him. Her decision stung, and he was now cursed to live life with her.

But she was but a small speck, a grain of sand.

He was here to take his father's place, which he so deserved. Chuck knelt before Henry, grateful for the audience the king gave him. Pleased with the show of fealty, the king waved him to a vacant seat at his table. Chuck stood and looked in the direction. His breath hitched at the recognition of the heavy mahogany chair that his father once occupied.

"Seat yourself, my lad," the king instructed.

Slowly, he made his way to the chair and touched the carving gingerly. With a deep breath, Chuck took his place.

"How feels it in a seat of power?"

His voice came out a little raw from the emotion. Chuck responded, "Like home, it is wonderful."

Henry grinned. Decisively, he said, "Get used to it. You shall take Jack's place in my eyes now."

"In more ways than one," one of the lords chuckled.

"This boy filled places Jack Bass never filled," commented another, but the message went over his head, so heady was the power that came with having such a seat in Henry's council.

There were guffaws, which left Chuck wondering. Chuck looked back at Henry, who eyed him with wonder, with doubt. Never allow the king a shred of doubt, Bartholomew had advised him. The king was a passionate man, given to brash decisions from the heart, decisions so grave there was no turning back.

After all, the man had pledged to divorce an aging wife when he was infatuated with Anne Boleyn. And when his cock was full to bursting with desire for the woman who would not lay with him unless promised marriage, the king had wed her in secret, broke England away from the Church to please a mistress.

"Have no doubt, my liege," Chuck answered. "I would honor your decree to the last letter of it, majesty. I serve you and the queen—no one else."

Henry rubbed his chin. And Chuck knew he had not satisfied the king. Henry cleared his throat, and leaned forward. "And if the queen should betray the throne—"

"My lord, you are my king. You are over any other soul."

Henry's lips curved. "You love your king above all others."

"Aye, majesty."

The king nodded. He turned to the council, and told them all, "This young man grew in this court, and naught but failure on the part of his father took him from us." And no good would come of reminding the king that Bartholomew's failure with the pope had not taken Chuck. Instead, it had been the rash decision to hand over Bartholomew's estates to Jack Bass. "Once he weds our dear departed Lord Jack's widow, the countess of Arundel, he shall take in this council the place of the earls of Arundel before him."

"I shall wed her, if that is what it takes to reclaim Arundel."

"The bishop is come, my lad. Wed the countess and be done with it," the king advised.

"The girl has got it in her blood to be false," came the quiet comment from Shrewsbury. There was a murmur, and several of the lords glanced at the king.

Chuck knew it by heart. She had wrapped her around her finger and promised, filled his head with fantasies of a lifetime—

"Lord Archibald can tell you tales."

"Wed her. If she weds another, she will take all of yours to another man. Wed her and leave her in Arundel, away from the rest of the court."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. He remembered Lord Archibald vaguely. The man had a suit with Blair three years back, and if Chuck had a fear when he left the court then it was that he would return and Blair would have accepted his suit. But she wad sworn, and he had taken comfort in her word.

~o~o~o~

"There are far grander gowns in the Wardrobe, Blair," Serena told her as they made their way through the gathering in court. "If you are to wed, you should wear the bright red gown that we once saw on your cousin wear in Greenwich."

"Or the dark blue velvet that Queen Catherine wore," Blair added.

"You know as well as I that Queen Anne would not allow one of Queen Catherine's gowns in her court," Serena advised. "And dark blue is too somber for a wedding. It is a celebration!"

"I am but newly widowed. It is unseemly," Blair insisted.

"Yet wedding another man is seemly?" Serena asked.

Blair was the first to see Lord Nathaniel on his way towards them. She balked at the prospect of seeing him. Blair grasped Serena's arm and said, "I cannot face him. Not now." And then, remembering who it was she stood with, she said, "Please take my apologies, Serena. I know that you and Lord Archibald had once pledged troth."

Serena shook her head. "It was over before it began." She smiled, and said, "Courtly love. Here one moment and gone the next."

It was what her friend believed she had shared with Chuck, in the stories that she had heard. After all, Serena had not been there to bear witness, and heard little rumors that had become part of the court. Rumors and truth that could not be separated, and Blair would rather Chuck come home to Arundel at once where he would be far from the tales.

"Did he not pay court to you?" Serena said in remembrance. "The queen wished for him to wed you, Blair. It was no secret."

That wish, with a sting of humiliation, had pushed to the back of her mind—so long ago it was. Lord Archibald had been fortunate then to catch Anne's fancy as the perfect match for her cousin. How it all came to pass, Blair more than admitted part of the sin.

Before she could respond, Nathaniel stopped before the two. Blair was amazed at how dignified was Nathaniel's manner in the face of two women for whom he had pressed suit, and pulled away.

"Lady Serena."

Serena nodded, and reached a hand for Nathaniel to kiss. "Lord Archibald, it is a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is mine, my lady," Lord Archibald replied.

Blair wondered at the exchange, for she had expected more bitterness from her friend at the knowledge that Lord Archibald declined marriage with her just when the agreement was to be finalized. Instead, Serena seemed happy to see him.

Nathaniel turned to her, and clasped her hand with both of his. "Lady Blair, accept my condolences. I had only heard of Lord Bass' passing."

"He was ill for a time," was her response.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, offering his arm to escort her.

"Lord Archibald, in truth, I am in Lady Serena's company," was her answer.

"If you please," Serena insisted. "I can be away. Just now, I find, there is much to tell the king's historian. He is such fascinating conversation."

Serena walked towards where Master Humphrey stood in the sidelines, drinking his wine and observing the court with shrewd eyes. At the sight of the queen's maid, the scholar waved. Within moments, Serena and Master Humphrey were caught laughing at the little whispered secrets.

Nate nodded towards the scholar, then turned back to Blair. "Lady Serena and Master Humphrey had always had fascinating discussions. Worry not for her. She will not be bored."

"Was she bored with your troth, Lord Archibald, that you broke off your engagement with nary a word?"

Nathaniel frowned. "There are things that you know little of, Lady Blair. I would not judge on assumptions." She murmured an apology. Lord Archibald walked with her out of the castle and brought her out to the garden maze that Anne had had designed. She stopped at the entrance, for fear of being lost inside. She hardly enjoyed it in the daylight, and she disliked it more at night. "Do you not wish to walk through?"

"I do not wish to enter where I cannot see the end," she told him.

"The path is my head. Do you not trust me?" he asked.

Blair looked from the maze, and then to Lord Archibald. "Mayhap we should return inside."

He shook his head. "At times like this, I remember, Blair, that you and I would have been wed but for fate."

"It was not fate, Nathaniel," Blair told him. "You withdrew your desire for marriage."

"You need to understand, Blair—"

"I do," she told him. "And I have no ill will against you." If she were Nathaniel or his parents, she would have decided the same. This much she knew. Even though she did not understand his decision to break an engagement with Serena van der Woodsen, his reason for breaking with her was completely understandable.

For the wealth that she had, and for the favors that the queen would have given, did not balance out a sullied wife. "The entire court knew."

"The court suspected."

"However the news spread, we cannot know. How was I to gain respect, Blair, when whispers abound that you had spread your legs for a traitor's son?" He shook his head. "Nay. Many of the rumors could not name Bass. How could I wed you, when everyone knew you were no innocent?"

When he spoke, and told a tale with the questions, it seemed so clean and dispassionate. Yet he could not capture in his words the utter humiliation she felt when she walked out into the court, floating as she was in the knowledge that she had given comfort to her love, and finding the whispers behind fans, seeing the demeaning stares.

A whore, they had called her. Like her cousin, the prostitute, the mistress—the queen that no one respected or adored.

"You could not marry me then."

"The queen would have me wed you within a fortnight. And you know, Blair, that I could not have raised Bass' little bastard."

Blair inhaled sharply, then withdrew her hand from his grasp. "No."

"I hear the king foists Bass on you now," Nathaniel shared. "And I remember when you thought he would come for you." His voice dropped. "When you swelled, you had believed he would come."

"Like he swore," she whispered back.

"I could not marry you then," Nathaniel continued. "And Lord Jack did the world a favor. You could not be pleased with the king's command now. I can help you."

Blair blinked. "You could not marry me then. Why will you wed me now?" she demanded.

"Because you were a sullied bride then, and we would have pretended you were not." Lord Archibald smiled. "Now you are a widow. No one is pretending you are a virgin in my bed."

Blair swallowed, then raised her chin. "I have no need of you now, Lord Archibald." She turned around. "If you please, I am due back at the side of the queen."

Nathaniel nodded, and walked behind her until they reached the court. Blair stopped at the doorway and felt the heat of someone's gaze on her. She looked up, and saw Chuck staring at her. She stopped, and felt Lord Archibald at her back. Chuck raised his glass of wine towards her, toasting it seemed a discovery.

"Does he know?" she heard Nathaniel ask behind her.

"That I married Jack? The entire world knows, my lord," she answered.

"No," he answered. "Does he know that you killed his child?"

At once, as if Chuck could hear Nathaniel's voice, her eyes flew to Chuck.

Blair's eyes fluttered shut. She felt Nathaniel brush against her back as he walked towards the ladies and gentlemen of the court. Her skin crawled at the reminder. Her hand flew to the rosary that hung around her neck. She turned around and she hurried down the corridor.

The supper bell was due to chime. The court would gather far away. She made her way towards her chambers. In the room, she changed into a black jeweled coif to cover her hair. Dorota helped her as she discarded her gown and assisted her into the bridal gown that Chuck Bass had sent to her.

"My lady, you look beautiful."

Blair kissed Dorota's cheeks, and said, "You may leave."

The maid curtsied to her. She handed Blair the lit candle, as she did every supper bell. Blair placed the candle on the mantle. She heard the knock on the door.

When she opened her door, she saw Chuck Bass leaning against the frame. "My lord," she greeted.

"Madame." Chuck passed by her and stepped into her room, and spanned the small area with keen eyes.

"My lord, it is not proper that you should be here."

He looked at her, and Blair wondered if it was her imagination that he seemed to still admire what he saw. "How can it not be proper, countess, when we are to wed tonight?"

"We are not wed yet."

"I am merely ensuring there is no man in your bed," he responded. "So I know there is no child in your belly that I would be forced to claim my heir." Her hand flew, and he caught her wrist in his grasp. "You have slapped me once. I learn from my mistakes. I hope to God, Blair, that so do you."

"I pity you, Chuck, for the time when you learn the truth."

"Of all your men?" he asked. "You have quite the wretched reputation, countess."

"A reputation not deserved," she told him.

"Truth or not, I would not have the court believe I am a cuckold," he warned her. "Not when I am fighting to regain what you and Jack have stolen from me." He leaned over her, so close that if she tipped her toes her lips would brush against his. "There is nothing more important than Arundel, and that seat with the king. Do you understand?"

"Aye," she whispered.

"Then do not tarry. Come. We will face the bishop and become man and wife before the eyes of God."

"Before Henry's eyes," she added. Blair turned to the candle on the mantle, and found that the small flame had been extinguished by the breeze coming from the open door. She looked at Chuck. "Light it."

"We are about to leave," Chuck protested.

"Light it," she repeated.

Chuck shook his head, muttered about stubbornness and picked up the candle. He walked towards the lamp and lit the candle's wick, then placed the candle back on the mantle. Blair watched the glow of the flame reflected on Chuck's face. Chuck held out his arm. "Countess, shall we wed?"

She nodded, and placed her arm in his. "Let us return Arundel to your hands, my lord."

Before the Archbishop of Canterbury, Anne's beloved Cranmer, she faced Chuck Bass. The hymn played around them, as the church's orchestra was woken from their beds at the queen's command. Blair looked up at Chuck, and was filled with the emotions that she had long thought gone.

"The union of husband and wife in heart, body and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy," the Archbishop declared, "for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity."Chuck's hands reached for hers. "And, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord." She blinked away the tears that gathered in her eyes.

Blair glanced at Anne, who touched her breast at the reminder of the child in her womb. Blair looked down at their clasped hands, and was mortified when a tear dropped from her eye to his thumb.

"Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God."

Chuck tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes.

"Blair Cornelia, will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

And his gaze pierced her, as if measuring the integrity with which she responded, "I will."

"Charles Bartholomew, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I swear," he responded thickly, "I will."

"In the Name of God, I, Charles, take you, Blair, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

She took his right hand in hers, and repeated the same vow.

They had sworn once before, long ago, and still they parted, still they suffered. Promises meant nothing—not between Chuck and Blair.

The Archbishop proclaimed them husband and wife, and at the round of applause among the witnesses, Henry stood from his throne and declared, "The Earl and the Countess of Arundel, my friends." There was another smattering of applause. The king walked over to them, then said, "Welcome back to the fold, lad."

Chuck accepted the king's hand with a large smile, then stepped forward and allowed himself to be drawn to the king's circle.

Blair turned around, and walked towards the queen. She kissed Anne's hand.

"Three years, ma cherie, and you finally have what you wanted. Is it all that you wished it to be?"

Blair remembered Chuck's words in her chambers, then shook her head. "Nothing will ever be the same, Anne."

He came for her, half an hour later, and they walked in silence together to his chambers. Blair held her breath as she stepped inside. She stood at the foot of his large bed. On this bed, she had accepted him into her body, spilled the blood for Anne and the king's guards to discover on the morning that he left. It was on this bed that they had made the only hope she held on to for so long.

On this bed.

"Lie down," he told her. "Rest."

She looked up at him.

"I will not bed you. Not tonight." When she frowned, he continued, "We will wait until you bleed, and I am certain there is no bastard in your womb."

She lay down on his bed, and glared at him from under the covers. "There was a time when you could not keep your hands from me," she reminded him.

At that, he gave a small smile, as if the memory was pleasant. "That was long ago."

"I have the same needs, my lord." When he did not pay attention, she scowled. "If I cheat on you, you are free to divorce me and keep your bloody castle."

"If you cheat on me, I shall strangle you with my bare hands. I am here to regain my honor, Blair. You are the queen's cousin. I have need of you yet."

Blair's eyes narrowed. She grabbed a small pillow and threw it at his head. "Mayhap in a month I would not desire you."

He chuckled. "That is the first I heard you admit you wanted me." Fully dressed, he lay down beside her. "Do you despise me?" She shook her head. "Then you will desire me still." Chuck took her hand and pressed it down against the crotch of his pants, sending shivers down her spine at the hardness. "I despise you for marrying Jack, and yet I am throbbing for you," he whispered into her ear.

"One moon," she returned.

"Until you bleed," he said softly.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **From the title of this story, you will already gather there is bound to be a 'loving' scene here and there. This part would have the characteristic 'scattered bliss' and 'lying bodies' that inspired the story.

**Part 5**

Matrimonial bliss was rather simple, as they both knew it to be. After the wedding, and the determination that there would be no romping in the sack, they had come to a sort of truce. Since he was regaining his footing in court, he would spend hours with the king and return to his chambers when she had already fallen fast asleep.

He was the earl of Arundel, as was his birthright, and his first act was to send gold home to replace the rushes and fix the boarded windows that he had complained of.

"And the lands—send gold for cattle and for the orchard," she told him when she saw him writing his missive of instructions to his man.

It had been delightful, he thought, to watch her pretend to know the business of landowning. Chuck humored her, and wrote for her peace of mind that cattle should be bought, and the orchard—

"How much have you set aside?" she asked as she combed her hair. Blair peered over his shoulder, then sighed in exasperation. "You do not wish to be cheated, my lord. The orchard needs a quarter of that gold. The trees only need tending, and watering. They are well and alive, and needs care to yield us fruits."

Chuck leaned back in his seat and eyed her. "And you know of farming now, Lady Blair?"

"I know enough." She shrugged her shoulders. "I watched Jack burn through my purse with failure upon failure to work the land."

"You know failure," he said skeptically.

"I know failure well enough to avoid it," she answered. Blair looked down at the missive and gestured where he should correct the instructions. "The roots of your orchard is well embedded into the earth. The trees are alive, but dried. They yielded fruit once, and the fruit rotted unharvested. Now your trees need but a bit of love and wooing, and they shall yield fruit yet."

Blair took a cream coif from the chest and covered her hair with it, like any married woman. She faced him, and raised her eyebrows. "Trust me," she said lightly.

Chuck paused, eyes her and her neat appearance for the court. When she left, he looked down at the missive. The quill hovered over the amount of gold for the orchard. Then, with a sigh, he scratched off the number and indicated the gold she had advised.

He rolled the parchment to send to Arundel castle, and Chuck proceeded to the Master of the Horse to secure transportation for his man. He stopped on the way and spied Dorota at the corner, tapping her sandaled foot, holding a missive in her hand.

"Dorota," he called her name.

The maid jumped, and looked up at him with round eyes. Blair had always said he put the fear of God into her maid. He had done nothing to petrify the maid, but the missive had made him curious. Lord Archibald had left the court quickly after his wedding. There were quiet rumors, completely unfounded, around the court that the queen herself used her maids to send messages to her lovers.

The rolled parchment in Dorota's hand called to him, and his gut tightened. He extended a hand. Dorota shook her head and clutched the missive to her heaving bosom. "It is for me, my lord."

Chuck snorted. A missive, with what appeared to be a noble family crest on a wax seal. For the maid. "Hand it to me."

Dorota shook her head. "Please, my lord, I only here for Master Humphrey."

The name—unfamiliar though it was—caused his suspicions to flare. "Master Humphrey." The man had been with Blair at least once, in the pretense that he was writing Jack's life and death. His lips thinned. "Is the countess sending letters to Master Humphrey?" he demanded. Blair had warned him, after all, that she had needs. Master Humphrey, with his peasant blood, would be hardy enough for her. Chuck snatched the letter and broke the seal.

"My lord, I here for Master Humphrey to read to me."

Chuck read the flowing script. 'My dearest Dorota, Our hearts bleed for our daughter.' He glanced at Dorota in confusion. "This is for you. Not Humphrey."

Dorota nodded, and held out a hand to explain. "Master Humphrey read Lady Eleanor's letters. I cannot read, Lord Bass."

His tense shoulders relaxed. Chuck released a breath of relief. She was not cheating on him, not with Humphrey, not with Lord Archibald. He found himself smiling a little. "This is the Howard seal. You are corresponding with Lady Blair's parents."

"Aye, my lord," Dorota answered. "They worry for my lady."

'She has suffered a loss so great her time in England, and I fear her broken heart. I am a mother, and can imagine a loss no greater.'

"Because of Jack?" he muttered.

"Because of it all." Dorota's voice dropped. "Lady Eleanor and Lord Harold do not know my lady wed you, my lord."

Chuck's jaw tightened. His own father even accompanied him to court, when it was his time to go. He rolled the parchment and handed it to Dorota, then offered, "I can read it for you, or if you do not wish for me to see, I shall send Master Humphrey."

Dorota smiled. "Thank you, my lord. I wait for Master Humphrey."

"Will you do me a favor, Dorota?" he asked.

Dorota lowered her head. "Certainly, my lord."

He glanced down at the missive in his hand. "I shall write to Lady Eleanor and Lord Harold, and you shall send it with your response. I shall assure them that their daughter is well-cared for, and has married the rightful earl. Will you send it, Dorota, and tell them I am a good man?"

"My lord, I cannot lie to Lady Eleanor."

Chuck's lips thinned. "I only think to assuage their fears." When Dorota seemed doubtful still, Chuck shook his head. "You do not need to write of me. Just send my letter along with your response."

"Aye, my lord."

Chuck left the maid, but felt Dorota eye him as he walked away. It was not his last encounter with Dorota. Chuck Bass supposed he should become used to her presence. She was Blair's maid, and had been since she was a young child he learned from his wife's stories. When Blair was sent to serve the queen of France, Dorota had been her chaperone. Even as Anne had sent for her cousin to be her lady in waiting as she ascended to the throne, Dorota had been right by Blair's side.

After what should have been his wedding night, Dorota had been outside his door to care for his charge. If there was anyone in court who knew the secret of his marriage, it would be Dorota and no one else.

He needed to give Dorota a small change to spend on a day out in town. It should give him a good enough name that Blair's parents were assured that their child was not married off to a scoundrel.

Chuck wondered how it was that Dorota wrote of Jack, or that marriage, that Lady Eleanor would write about the greatest loss. It occurred to him that Jack was still alive when the letter traveled from the French countryside, across the Channel, and to the English court.

Two weeks after the wedding, he was back in the king's good graces and in the well seated and accepted to the council. Chuck woke and found the bed beside him empty. In the morning he had found it familiar to wake and find Blair still asleep, or just waking as well. Wordlessly they would choose their clothes for the day, even when they would spend it for the most part apart.

On the bed beside him were carefully selected clothes. There was a knock on the door. He sat up, and the sheet fell to his waist. It was a small game they played, because he knew she was fascinated by the bare skin of his chest. She came to bed in thin shifts as her revenge.

"Countess?" he called, then realized that Blair never knocked.

Dorota entered the room, and diverted her eyes at the sight. She bore a tray of food and placed in on the mantle.

"Your mistress?"

Chuck stood and took a bedrobe from the chair, then shrugged it on.

"Arose early, my lord, and with the queen."

He walked towards the tray, saw the small blossom, and picked it up. He brought it to his nose. Even away, she played still. The fragrance was familiar like her hair. There was a hard bun, several slices of meat, a plate of jam. "Is that all that is prepared in the kitchens?"

"There is quail, my lord," Dorota answered. "Lady Blair has set it aside from your tray."

"I abhor quail."

"So she said."

Chuck took the tunic and put it on. He saw the emerald vest. "Is my lady by chance wearing her moss gown?"

"Her moss green dress, with the lace at the décolletage." He nodded and put on the matching vest. "Remind me, Dorota, to send for my mother's jewelry." He paused. "Or not. Mayhap Jack has given them to Blair."

"Lord Jack has given no jewels to my lady, save the Arundel countess' ring."

With the plan set in his mind, of sending for his mother's jewels, Chuck walked towards the king's quarters with a spring in his step. He was on the way to the royal wing when he saw Master Humphrey stumble from the rooms, hopping on one foot as he slid on his shoe.

"Lord Bass!" Master Humphrey stammered, clutching a leather carrier. "I am on my way to the council's meeting. May I walk with you?"

Chuck eyed the disheveled state of the scholar. "As soon as you can walk properly, Master Humphrey," he said, his tone clear to communicate that he had no patience to wait. As he walked, Chuck heard the noise behind him. Chuck stopped, turned around and saw a blonde lady on her knees gathering fallen items. Chuck frowned. His eyes lit with recognition. He had been by those rooms before, passing by for his wife for supper when the queen required their presence. "Those are Lady Serena's rooms," he commented. To Daniel, he said, "I had wondered how it was you were staying so close to the court."

"My lord, but for your silence I am dead—"

"You know that you could as soon be penalized with death for what you do." A commoner, no matter the education or the role, simply did not mix with nobility. It had always been thus, always would be. Despite the ridicule heaped upon Queen Anne, she was from two of the most noble families in the kingdom. His wife was, like the queen, a Howard—well deserving of the oldest peerage in the land.

To this, the commoner, illogical as they were wont to be, replied, "I am a man in love."

"Foolish," Chuck muttered. Weak men blamed foolish acts on love. It was but an excuse. He walked away.

Daniel hurried after him. "My lord, if I can have your word!"

He almost rolled his eyes. The man was frustrating, and made him tardy to boot. "What shall I receive in return?" he asked, knowing there was nothing that the man could name. Master Humphrey was penniless, like most poets and historicans, most musicians in court.

"I have nothing."

Just as he had expected.

He entered the receiving chambers where the king gathered with a handful of his council men. Henry nodded to acknowledge his entrance. The discussion was heated. From the gentleman beside him, Chuck learned of the rumor.

"Send the good woman away. I would not have her reputation tarnished," the king commanded.

Chuck walked towards the king, seated in his father's place and waited until the affairs of the kingdom had been settled. Even as the council returned to their own chambers, Chuck remained in the king's quarters. For the most sensitive questions, Bartholomew had told him, one must speak in private with the king. If the king were to take offense, there would be no witnesses to see humiliation, no ears to listen to Henry's passionate decrees.

"Majesty, forgive me," he began. "But I had thought to ask only you." Henry nodded, permitting him to speak. "My lord, what is this of Lady Jane Seymour?" Because rumors—rumors came from a shred of truth. Even rumors about his wife. "My lord, if I remember right, before I left this court you were so enamored of the queen. Even now I see you it seems to be true."

Chuck waited with bated breath. Henry could easily explode, and Blair would find herself widowed again before her twentieth.

"Lad," the king said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "this is your chance for Arundel to serve your king the way your father failed to do."

Chuck took a deep breath. "Tell me, my lord."

"It will come together, my lad." Henry patted his cheek. "Marriages are not all that they seem, lad. You of all my men should know it."

"What mean you, majesty?"

"You have not warmed your wife's bed," Henry pointed out. "You have seen Lady Bass, have you not? If I were a younger man—" the king said. Chuck drew his breath sharply, held his tongue for the sake of his neck.

"My lord, it is a matter between the countess and myself."

"There is no matter too private for your king, Bass," Henry corrected him sharply. "Not in my court."

"Suffice to say, majesty, that I shall be certain that the next earl of Arundel came from my own loins."

Henry nodded. He told Chuck, "Go. Put your seed in your wife. That is why she is there. You have a young bride, fertile and I hear, eager for you."

After one daughter and a stillborn son within two years of marriage between Anne and Henry, Chuck had no doubt that was how Henry viewed his queens. But Henry had the future of the throne to think of. Anne was breeding once again. There was no cause for worry, he knew. As long as Anne had the heir to the throne in her belly, this infatuation with Jane Seymour would come to naught.

"And be prepared once the throne has need of you," the king continued. "You are dismissed, Lord Bass."

Chuck opened the door and walked back towards his chambers, wondering what it was that Henry deeply hinted at. He would serve the king. His father had served the king and perished. It was ingrained in his veins like the blood that dated back to the days of the first Norman king of England.

"My lord!" he heard. "My lord Bass!"

Chuck turned around and saw Master Humphrey running towards him. He frowned, "What is it?"

"I can give you something in return," Daniel gasped. "For your silence, my lord." He continued. "Peace of your mind."

"And how can you, a scholar, give me that?"

"I heard your conversation with the king," Master Humphrey admitted. Chuck looked at him with disgust. "It is my part in this court, my lord, to observe silently, and write history for the king."

"Speak," he intoned.

"I need you to swear you shall speak to no one of my affair with Lady Serena."

As if he cared about it. Chuck Bass had already forgotten. He nodded.

"Your wife is not with child, my lord," Master Humphrey said in a rush. "Your uncle was so ill near the end he hardly rose from his bed." Chuck's brows furrowed. He had heard that Jack had passed after an illness took him, and thought it had been quick and strong, which took his life quickly. "In truth, Lord Bass, Jack had been debilitated so long I would presume his marriage never was consummated."

His heart thrummed in his ears. Loudly. He stepped closer to Master Humphrey. "Do you lie to save your skin?"

Master Humphrey shook his head. "I tell no lies."

"If I find you lie," Chuck warned. "You shall not be alone in the scaffold." He bared his teeth. "This king does not hesitate to hang nobles and commoners both."

Master Humphrey hurriedly rifled through his papers, then read from it. His hands trembled in his desire to convince the earl. "There is one night I shall remember always," Master Humphrey read. "Against the cold emptiness of my marriage bed—"

Chuck took the sheet from Master Humphrey and skimmed through the hurriedly scrawled tale. "One night. She remembers one night," he whispered. From the scholar, he demanded, "I want it all."

"That is all, my lord. We have not sat for more."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Your neck is safe, Master Humphrey," he said, handing the sheet to the scholar. "Take comfort."

~o~o~o~

The queen took to her bed, dizzy and miserable. Blair sat beside her cousin and laid a warm, wet towel on her forehead. She placed a hand over Anne's swollen belly and said, "It is all worth the suffering, Anne, once you hold your son in your arms."

"A little prince," Anne answered, closing her eyes.

"The king would worship you," Blair said, voicing Anne's deepest hope. "A beautiful boy is the most wonderful gift."

Anne grinned. Her hand close around Blair's. "Ma cherie, if it pains you to care for me now, with all the memories."

Blair glanced up, at the ladies who walked in and out, who knew nothing of what had passed in Arundel castle. "Hush, Anne. You are my cousin. I would not rather be anywhere else than at your side."

Anne's eyes fluttered open. "Blair, she was beautiful."

Blair drew a deep breath. "Was she, Anne?"

"The most beautiful little angel," the queen answered.

She looked down at their entwined hands, and blinked until the tears feel down her cheeks. The queen had come, despite her desire to remain in court. The queen had arrived in those the most wretched days. Blair raised the queen's hands and kissed Anne's knuckles. She had made the mistake and committed the sin, but Anne had remained with her, kept her safe, cared for her.

There was a debt she could never repay. It was Dorota who told her. The little angel lasted one night, and in her childbed fever she did not remember even a second of it. In the wee hours of the night, while she passed, it was Anne who held the child.

"Something is afoot," Anne whispered. "I feel in every bone. Whatever passes, Blair, will you care for my Elizabeth?"

"Nothing will happen to you, Anne."

The queen shook her head. "I have lived in courts my entire life, cousin. I know when a storm is brewing," Anne told her. "I need you to swear, Blair, that you will care for my daughter the way I cared for yours."

"I swear." Blair bit her lip. "I will not leave you."

Anne took comfort in the promise, and slipped into a restful sleep. Blair looked up and saw Jane watching from the doorway. Blair stood and walked towards the other lady. At her approach, Lady Jane walked away.

"Jane!" she called. They were in the corridor now, and Blair demanded, "Jane, I have seen you with him."

But Jane was meek, a gentle soul. That was how she knew the queen's lady in waiting. She could not believe the betrayal that Anne would suffer in her hands. "The king loves me, Blair, and I love my king."

"You shall create chaos, Jane."

"All I desire is tranquility for us all—to love Henry, to restore his daughter with queen Catherine."

"You are foolish," Blair replied. "Does he promise you the throne?"

Jane raised her chin, and proudly claimed, "I have no desire for the throne." The problem was that Blair believed her.

"He swore his love for the queen and he romps on your bed. Have you no shame?"

"Have you none yourself, Lady Blair?" Jane demanded. "You would wed a man who is not your bastard's father," she whispered. Her voice dropped. "You know as well as I, that God has punished your child for what you have done."

~o~o~o~

Chuck found her at the end of the confrontation, witnessed the passionate way she fought for her cousin. Foolish girl, he thought. She knew not what she entered. He did not hear the quiet conversation, and called her name. Blair turned her back on Jane Seymour and walked towards her husband.

"Countess, conflict amongst the queen's ladies is unseemly," he said quietly.

Chuck propelled her gently towards their quarters. Blair's eyes widened, and she exclaimed, "She is having an affair with the king, behind Anne's back!"

"Hush. It is all the more reason she should stay far away from Jane. If you displease the king, he can punish you."

"Do you care, my lord? Do you truly mind if I should suffer in the king's hands?"

Mornings, apparently, were no longer enough. Supper, or the times when they would find each other in Henry's court did not count. "I told you, Lady Blair, that I am after the most important thing."

"Have you not regained it yet? You have been behind closed doors with the king all these nights past."

"Do you count the days, Blair?" he asked, his voice becoming softer. She wanted his company, needed his presence.

"Twelve nights my bed is cold when you should warm it."

Chuck remembered what Humphrey had written, of her cold bed during her marriage with Jack. He promised, "Tonight."

Blair pulled back and asked, "One moon. It has not been one moon."

"I care not."

She blinked. She smiled and nodded. "Tonight, my lord."

~o~o~o~

He walked towards his chambers, his heart in his throat. The way back to his quarters was insufferably long. He was bursting in his pants, eager to be with his wife. He deserved a prize for staying away, because no sane man could have kept his hands from Blair for so long. Even the king thought it was insane.

Chuck pushed open the door to his chambers, and caught his breath at the sight of his wife. He blew out the candles on the mantle.

"Take off your clothes."

Blair turned her head in the darkness of their chambers. The moonlight streamed through the window, giving the white nightdress a luminescent glow. For a second he imagined her the way he had seen her in many of his dreams—in a white gown made for their wedding, lace and silk encrusted with a hundred thousand seed pearls sewn into the fabric.

"Chuck," his name came, breathed from her lips.

"Lady Bass," he returned, "take off your clothes."

She turned back to face the windows. Her face was hidden, and the curtain of dark hair falling down her back reminded him of that night when it was spread across his pillow and he still imagined eternity in her arms. Chuck watched in fascination as one of her slim hands reached before her and pulled, and the nightdress fell onto the floor, pooled around her ankles. She peered back at him through the curtain of her hair.

He had not known how much the past weeks had consumed him until that moment, when he could see the expanse of her pale skin, marvel at the peaks and valleys of her body and knowing full well that the man he despised had not seen the same.

"I know not what has come over you, my lord," she said softly. He walked towards her, and easily lifted her into his arms as he had long desired to do. The long hair that covered her breasts parted at the movement, and slid to the sides. When he saw the tears in her eyes, happy, liquid tears, he swallowed. Had he truly made her suffer so, for the unfounded fear that she had lain with Jack on the years he had been missing? He leaned down and pressed an openmouthed kiss on her collarbone. He heard her breath hitch and felt her bury her fingers into his hair. His kisses moved to her throat, and down to the swell of her breast. "Chuck," she whispered.

He walked towards the bed and laid her down, covered her body at once, unwilling even for a single second to part from her.

"Take off your clothes," she asked him then.

With the slivering moonlight casting silver shadows on his form, he removed the restricting clothes until he knelt before her nude. She sat up on the bed and marveled at his form, placed her palms on his chest and gingerly kissed his chest.

And he remembered that the only time they had joined, he had been in such rush and despair there was no time for gentle touches, for fervent kisses. They had tumbled into the bed and he had thrust into her, tearing her hymen and spending inside her. Leaving her.

His hand wrapped around her wrist. He would take time now. He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss into the palm of her hand. He felt the tremor in her hand. "You cannot be afraid of me."

And he saw how her eyes moved over him, the moment the tears slid when he kissed her.

"Do you know," she asked softly, "how much I longed for you?"

Countless nights he had been aboard that ship, over the days when in his loneliness he had despaired about coming home before he was ready. "I know," he answered.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, and he could not keep them from roving down her body. He rubbed down her arms and reached for the taut breasts. He heard her exhale, and saw her throat work through the sensation. Her stomach tightened in tension. His thumb reached down and brushed down the line from her navel.

Her nipples tightened, to his great pleasure. He thumbed and flicked her left breast until the nipple strained, and slowly, he bent down and took it between his teeth, plucked. She moaned. His tongue darted out and he laved the swollen bud. Before him her head fell back and she released a long breath through her mouth.

Her breath came in short puffs of air. When he lifted his head, she fell back limply on the bed. She looked at him with barely open eyes and reached out her arms to him. His lips curved, and he crawled on all fours until he was over her.

"I cannot remember this was so beautiful," she breathed.

He laid an openmouthed kiss on her, and kept his lips on her skin as he kissed her jawline. He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Neither can I," he admitted, and before her, after her, there had been women aplenty—ladies and whores both. Nothing compared.

He slithered down her body and placed a kiss on her hipbone. At this she tensed and grabbed his shoulders. Chuck massaged her thighs and said in his low voice, "Trust me."

His mouth moved over her quivering belly. Blair gasped. Chuck lifted his head and met hers, then lowered his lips and pressed a lingering kiss into the curls hiding her lower lips.

He kissed her thighs, and gingerly, with practice, hooked his arms underneath her knees. She tried to cross her legs, but he nuzzled her curls to comfort her. She took a few trembling breaths, and gasped when he quickly moved up and her legs parted as they moved over his shoulders.

"Chuck!"

"It shall all be fine, Blair," he assured her. Then, he buried his mouth into the moist softness of her lower lips, eliciting a long groan from Blair. She breathed out a prayer, and Chuck delved into her, parting her lower lips with his thumbs and an insistent tongue. Her hips arched, and her prayers became incoherent mumbling that ended frequently with his name.

He pushed her, with the ceaseless caress of his tongue, until Blair could see only vast whiteness when she opened her eyes wide. She had never felt it before, never thought it was possible. The greatest moment in her life was the day he came inside her, hot and pulsing, three years past on the same bed. And then he pushed and pushed her over the precipice, and from his ministrations she felt herself falling, melting into a rush of hot wax and honey dew and she blanked out.

When she came to, and recovered her breath, his mouth was on hers and she could taste that unfamiliar taste on her mouth, knew it was hers.

"I love you," she gasped, his face in her hands. "I love you still."

Her thighs were still parted, and he was between, strong and hard. She felt the tip of his sex prodding against her flesh. Blair reached between their bodies and helped him. She squeezed her eyes tightly when his body slid inside of her. His tongue plundered her mouth, and he thrust in and out of her. Blair held onto his shoulders and into his ear, over and over, told him that she loved him.

His hands tightened around her waist. She had thought it impossible, but her vision narrowed until it was but a pinprick, and her body spasmed underneath his, squeezing like a vise and bursting when she came. His forehead fell onto hers and he grunted. She felt him come in a series of hot spurts inside her, coating her, flooding her until some of his seed spilled from her and smeared onto her inner thigh.

Chuck fell over her, heavy and limp, and she could hardly breathe from his weight but still she wrapped her arms around his heaving back and closed her eyes. She twined her legs around his and closed her eyes. "I love you," she said again, in a bid good night.

It seemed a great weight had been taken from him, ripped from his back and he murmured an incoherent response, then fell into a deep sleep on top of her, with him still spent and in her. Better that she did not understand his words, that she should not place meaning into them that he did not intend. She closed her eyes and allowed exhaustion to take her.

When she woke next, it was at the feel of his flesh springing alive inside of her, the sensation of his body hardening and waking. Her eyes fluttered open and she met his eyes as he pumped his hips, plunging in and out of her. He had no words; nor did he need one. She swallowed and felt his fingers tangle with hers, and he pressed her hands down on the bed, on either side of her head. Blair hiked her legs up higher and tighter over his hips as he spent himself inside of her again.

This time, she did not come. But she was as satisfied as earlier that night when she watched him close his eyes and felt him reach his end in her.

It was lonely when he fell to his side instead of on top of her. Still, she relished when he pressed to her side and threw an arm and a leg over her, pulling her tightly, possessively.

tbc

Are you getting into the groove yet? It seems I am.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **Once again, thank you for continuing to read. I enjoy reading your thoughts as the characters take their journey and grow throughout the events in this story. I'm glad that you understand their motivations, and I hope you will be forgiving for those who have not yet achieved the growth you want them to have already achieved.

Feel free to let me know what you think. It helps me see if I am getting my point across well, and at the time I wanted to reveal them.

And no, I cannot write a DS hisrom even if I wanted to. I am not that skilled. My hisrom skill runs to the BC variety only.

**Part 6**

Always she sat to the left hand of the queen. It was a practical arrangement as the queen was used to having the king to her right, and often Anne reached for her husband's hand on that side or lifted her fan and whispered a secret to the left. And Anne loved delicious little secrets. Blair perhaps knew more about the comings and goings in the bedchambers of Henry's courtiers from the queen herself more than she learned them from the maids.

There was a time she competed with Anne, when she fresh in court and wanted to delight her cousin. Yet once scandal of her deflowering spread like rapid fire among the court, in its countless variations—she was found in her own bed whilst the gentleman scampered with his ass bare; she lost her virginity in the gentleman's bed as her maid guarded the doorway; she had been tumbled in the garden shed by a married man, she was with Chuck Bass; she was with Jack; it was Nathaniel Archibald—Blair had been hesitant to rumormonger the way Anne still enjoyed.

Perhaps it was having one misunderstanding resolved that made it easier for Blair to turn to her right and whisper to the queen, "Are there new secrets in court, majesty, that might interest me?"

Apparently, the queen had not expected the simple question. Anne glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "I sense a lighter mood, Blair, than what you have brought to court some time." Before Blair could respond, Anne straightened in her seat and smiled in welcome as the king and his council walked into the room. The queen rose, with a hand on her slight pregnancy, and curtsied. The rest of the court paid their respect as well, and did not rise until the king took his seat.

Blair met her husband's eyes from afar, as Chuck remained behind in discourse with another of Henry's men. He must have felt her gaze, because he turned towards her and nodded, with a small, thrifty grin that made the hair on her arms stand in attention.

And Blair heard the thrilled whisper, "You naughty girl. Did you tumble your husband in bed last night?"

"Anne!" Blair gasped, bursting into soft, disbelieving giggles. "I would not call it tumbling, Anne," she replied in a hush. She flushed beet red.

"Tumbling or rutting—"

"We consummated our marriage," Blair corrected, because rutting was depraved and tumbling was disrespectful. And last night—

"Fornicated, consummated—it's all the same," Anne replied, and Blair blushed at the mouth on the queen.

"Often, Anne, it is easy to forget with all your sumptuous, royal wardrobe that you were once the Anne Boleyn that delighted many a French courtier."

The queen waved away the comment. "Whatever turn of phrase you choose, ma cherie… It baffles me. I thought your stubborn husband has it in his head that you were promiscuous and would not touch you with a yardstick?"

"You make me feel like he's treated me like a leper," Blair commented, "or some poor unfortunate soul swept by the sweat!" And it was true that Blair had commiserated on the fact with the queen, and had not bothered to ask last night what changed. Last night, it had been heady, and she was not one to doubt grace. She had come along with an open heart when Anne called for her, and she had welcomed Chuck with a heart as open when he finally wanted her. "Perhaps it was an exaggeration when I doubted him. Perhaps he loves me."

The queen scoffed. "Did he tell you?" Anne asked.

Not once.

But she was not to admit it to her queen.

"Or perhaps," the queen continued, as she looked back at Chuck, "no matter his distrust of you, no matter the harsh words, you cannot take away that in bed you are the perfect fit."

And they were. So very perfect.

"Anne, you look at a gift horse in the mouth," Blair replied. Her heart tumbled when she noticed he had left the conversation and walked over to her.

"And you blindly unwrap it despite the giver's history of discontent."

"I am not accepting an alliance from France, your majesty. Fortunately for me, I am not in politics. That is your world, not mine."

"You are in court, ma cherie," Anne told her. "And you are wed to a very ambitious young man—a Bass. There will always be politics," she pressed on.

Blair shook her head. She put on a happy smile and rose to her feet. "You deal with politics, Anne. I only ever wish to love him."

"Then I pray for you, because you are a naïve girl still."

"Anne, you should know… Life has stolen the naïve girl from me long ago." She paused, and then said, "You were there."

The queen lowered her gaze, and placed her hands on her belly. And Blair remembered the stillborn son that shortly followed the Princess Elizabeth, the son who would have been the king's first legitimate heir. And she remembered Anne's broken sobs and the vow she made that whatever it took she would give her husband the son he craved.

"I remember it another way, Blair," the queen said. "And I remember it was not life that stole away your innocent but the man the king has insisted you wed."

"What will you think of me," Blair replied, as Chuck made his way closer and closer to her, "if you know I was the one who drew him to me, and he stole nothing that I did not wish to give away?" Her heart raced with anticipation that even the thought of him within reach could bring. She stood.

"Blair!"

Blair excused herself and walked to meet him part way. She offered him her hands and he took them in his. She meant to be sophisticated, reserved. But she could not help herself. She leaned forward and up and pulled him towards her so she could kiss both of his cheeks.

"In front of the king and the queen, Blair?" he whispered, not sounding displeased at all.

"Anywhere, my lord."

He looked at her with eyes that smoldered, and she recognized the look as one he had last night, when he was atop her, right before he pushed his way inside of her. "I am married to an insatiable creature."

"For you, always." And then, with a quick glance at the queen, she offered, "Let us come away to bed."

He chuckled. She could see the disappointment in his eyes when he refused. "Much as I would love nothing more than to while away the night buried deep inside your hot sheath," he whispered to her ear, his lips brushing against the outer shell, "I fear I must stay in the king's sight lest I lose some of the recall I have built."

"Recall?" Blair asked softly. "How can he ever forget you—when you are Earl of Arundel and you are married to his wife's cousin? Why the king would remember your name even when he tries to forget you."

They were aphrodisiac to Chuck. His hands tightened around hers. He pulled her close. "You know just what to say."

"You are foremost in the mind of the king, Chuck. And," she said, continuing to whisper, knowing what she would say next would take her to hell, "if we conceive a child, you will secure your place in the king's eyes. The earl of the oldest English peerage, and so virile that you can procreate so soon." And then, with a teasing, coaxing manner she said, "So come along, Chuck. Be with me some tonight."

The way he looked at her, as he hung on that decision, she knew she had him. He hesitated, but the desire warred in him and won. "Let me speak to the king." When she would have protested, he said, "Let me ask if he needs me. I need him to remember my presence tonight." He raised her hand to his lips then assured her, "If you do me this favor, I will repay you tonight in bed until I have you screaming your gratitude."

Blair's eyes fluttered shut at the words so delicious they sent a chill down her spine. "Make haste."

To her surprise, he brushed a quick kiss on her lips before he fled. She relished the sensation, and waited a count of ten before she opened her eyes. She took a step back when she saw Nathaniel standing before him. He said nothing. She said, "Lord Archibald, you must have come for a purpose."

"Are you happy?"

Blair blinked. "You wish to know if I am happy."

"You finally married him."

And truly she did not wish to speak of Chuck with Nathaniel Archibald. "You rejected me," Blair pointed out.

"Just sooner than you would have done to me."

"You are so certain I would have refused you when you were always the queen's choice."

And Nathaniel Archibald had but a simple answer. "I was." And that choice would not have broken his heart. She had heard many tales that by the time his eyes had wandered off to one of the many ladies in the court who adored him. There was the elder duchess, Lady Beecham, who had been rumored to send favors to the young Lord Archibald at the same time he pledged his suit to Blair.

She glanced back to the throne and smiled when she saw that Chuck had started to make his way towards her. Nate walked the other way, towards the crowd and away from Blair.

"You would have married him then. Truly?" Chuck asked as he placed a hand on the small of her back.

"The queen wished for me to wed him."

"And you married Jack instead."

Oh she abhorred when the conversation turned to Jack. Absolutely disliked when Chuck spoke of the man. There was so much that Chuck could not understand, many things that even the king did not know. But her time with Jack, out in Arundel had been a time when her life changed—for better or for worse, at that point in her life, being with Jack Bass had been what she needed. She could not bring herself to parry insults about the man who gave her a purpose even for a few months.

If she did not love him, loved him for three years now, she would never listen to the diatribe that she knew lessened a little of his pain.

Chuck scoffed. He nodded towards Nathaniel's retreating form. "He is an attractive man. I see the queen's maids aflutter over Archibald."

"The queen's maids have always been aflutter over Lord Archibald," she answered. They made their way towards their rooms, and Blair forced herself to slow her pace lest she seem overeager. Truly, as he spent hours upon hours closeted with the king's council, speaking of goodness which alliances and wars, all she could think of was spending hours upon hours having her husband do to her what husbands did to make wives blush. She had waited so long, only listening to the queen's maids speak of the thrill, listening to Anne regale her of the fun she had with the most powerful man in England. It was her turn now. And she would have her way.

When they reached the corridor of Chuck's room—their chambers, she still trained herself to think—he stopped her. And asked—something in his eyes made her realize he had been holding to the question for some time—"When you could have had Archibald, do you regret wedding an aging, sickly man?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You knew that Jack was ill?"

And as they walked he bent low and admitted to her, "Learned it from Humphrey. And I know now you have never lain with him."

Her steps lost rhythm. "Is that why you—Is that—You felt I was acceptable since your uncle never touched me?" Her voice rose. They hurried out of the gathering and towards the empty corridors.

"You should have told me."

"My worth is more than my chastity, Chuck," she reminded him.

"Lord Archibald certainly disagrees with that!" he retorted.

"There was a time when I thought you were different from him!" she returned. "And here you are—"

"That is rich!" He muttered and she could swear he was swearing under his breath. It was appalling, and she certainly could think of no reason that she deserved this. And then, well certainly, Chuck Bass would hand her the reason. "You swore you would wait," he said in a hushed whisper. His hand gripped her arm tightly she was afraid it would bruise his fingerprints. And it did not seem as if he knew what force he used. "And you answered me not once. You found another way, an easier choice. Are you ashamed to admit it? Do you regret wedding a sickly man when you could have had a virile young one such as that?"

Answers. He waited for answers? "To what?" she whispered.

"You were the one who broke your vow, Blair." Her brows furrowed. "Tell me, Blair, how long I should wait until you break another one. I am wound tight awaiting the day."

"You insist on finding fault with me!"

"Because I know you were forced to marry me."

She stared at him, her mouth agape. Blair glanced up and down the corridor, and finding them alone, her voice dropped and she asked, "Did I feel as if I wished to be elsewhere than your bed last night, my lord? Was I ever less than overjoyed?" She cupped his face with both of her hands, and forced his gaze to her.

His forehead fell on hers, and he took a few deep breaths, just as he did when he expelled his seed in her and fought to catch his breath.

"Chuck, last night was all I ever wanted."

And then, he said, "I wish to apologize. I am a jealous fool. Chalk it up to being an only son." She waited, because she knew he kept more at bay than just those words. But then he added, "That is all the apology you shall hear."

She shook her head. "You are a stubborn man." She placed a hand on his chest, and she felt under her palm the rapid heartbeat, strong, terrific in its frantic rhythm. With a heart as powerful as this, she could only imagine how madly he would love. "And I love you."

She waited. Waited still. Three years ago and last night, for words that would not leave his lips. He could see it in the way her chest swelled with her bated breath. "I shall not lie to you." His hand closed around the one that lay on his chest. It tightened over hers. "If you can trust anything, you can trust in that."

This was how it was to love a man so powerful. Anne suffered through Henry's indiscretions, and it seemed that she herself was cursed to suffer through the madness that was Chuck Bass' jealousy, the stubbornness that was her husband never allowing himself to love her.

But what Chuck Bass never said, Chuck Bass showed her. With a firm grasp on her hand, he pulled her with him to the chambers that were freshly cleaned, and the sheets replaced since they soiled the one from the night before. His lips latched on to her neck. Blair's hand fluttered over his shoulders. She felt the sharp, gentle bite of his teeth and swore he intended to mark her. His fingers worked on the tiny buttons of her gown as he disrobed her. She admired his patience, because her way would have been to push him down on the bed and hike up her skirts to climb over him.

The heavy gown fell to the floor, and she squealed when her husband picked her up in her undergarments and lifted her out of the mound of clothes that surrounded her. He grinned and slanted his mouth on top of hers, kissing her breath away. He laid her down on the bed in her chemise, and sat on the side of the bed. Chuck traced a finger from the base of her throat down to the valley between her breasts. She caught her breath, swallowed.

"Do you forgive me, Blair?" Her eyes filled, although she knew in her head he was not asking for that which he did not know. "I was a brute—jealous of men who have no claim on you."

She forced a smile to her lips, and promised lightly, "Always."

"God," he whispered, "I do not deserve you." Chuck smirked as he climbed on the bed, and she pushed at his shoulders so he would be the one to lie down. There were little moments when she could feel control, and when she cupped the hardness over his crotch and he sharply drew his breath, she knew it was one of those moments.

Blair covered his body with her own and kissed his mouth. She undid his pants and felt him spring hard and free against her stomach. Her knees felt soft and tremulous, but she opened her legs and allowed him to rub against her outer lips.

"Blair," he choked out when she felt him dip ever so slightly in her wetness.

So she rose to straddle him and looked down at him. "Hold on to the headboard. You cannot touch me."

"Like hell I can't," he cursed.

"If you want me to forgive you," she said playfully, "you will not touch."

It should have felt odd, ill-fitting, because she was not Anne and this was a game that Anne had played before—in France, in England. It was an old trick that her cousin swore left men hungering for more. Powerful men, she said, secretly crave the sensation of being powerless. And if there ever was a powerful man in her life, it was Chuck Bass.

His cock twitched underneath her, and her lower lips ached to enfold him. But instead Blair tugged at the ribbon that held her chemise together and pulled it free, causing the clothing to part and reveal her breasts to him.

He hissed at the sight, and he gritted, "You shall slay me."

To which she gave a playful smile and leaned forward, reached to tie his wrists to the headboard with the ribbon. She glanced at him and saw him fascinated with the swing of her breasts right over his face. "Do you want to kiss them?" she asked.

"More than I want to breathe."

"Go on," she suggested.

She moaned deep in her throat when his lips closed over one, and she felt the scrape of his teeth on her nipple. Her hands fell to grasp the tightness of his upper arms.

"Are you sure you can do this, Blair?" he gasped. She mewled in her throat and nodded. And then he moved his attention to the other breasts. The tip of her tongue touched the tip of her distended nipple, and he licked circles around it until she was pressing and pushing her lips against him. By some stroke of luck, or his masterful skill, the hardness of his freed cock brushed against a button in her, and even without entering her he managed to push her to the edge.

Her hips jerked over him, and she flushed brightly when she exploded, and a scream flew from her mouth. She breathed deep and fell over his chest, brushing an open mouth against the short stubble on his chin.

He turned his head and kissed her mouth, licked her lips and breathed, "You are so passionate, Blair. I cannot imagine how you survived married to an ailing man who could not please you."

She forced herself to sit up, despite her trembling muscles. She shook her head, and in the pretense of the game she began she placed a hand over his mouth. "Shut up and please me."

His eyes sparked. He pulled at the loose bonds and she shook her head. And so he gripped the headboard and maneuvered her hips. Her eyes widened when he positioned himself to slide inside of her, so well, so easily. Blair grasped his shoulders with both hands and met his eyes, her hair falling from the coif and right down either sides of her face, curtaining them from the rest of the room so that their only sight was of each other.

When she came, she buried her face in the pillow and grunted. She felt his hands run down her back, and she did not care any more that he stopped the pretense. Her muscles tightened around him so frantically that she wondered how it was he did not erupt then and there. Her juices covered him and she heard the slick slap of their bodies over and over as he continued to pump inside her. Then he turned her onto her back and hefted her legs around his hips. The sound they made as he entered her channel, now sopping wet with her come, drew her ever so much deeper.

"Blair," he said deep in his throat. And she opened her eyes and stared back at him. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me again."

She could not know what he wanted, because she had told her a great many things today. And then, like magic, or some connection they shared which he still did not recognize, and he surged inside her once more, she realized what he needed. He buried himself deep, and when his ear was closest she declared, "I love you."

He bared his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut. And then he spent himself, almost in relief. Blair gasped when he flooded her, and she tightened her arms around him. He fell to his side and laid a heavy arm across her stomach. He kissed her bare, sweaty shoulder and said, "You did well, Blair. And by God, I swear there is a Bass in you now."

She looked up at the ceiling and wondered when it was doomed people recognized they were on their way to hell. She turned to her husband and noticed the way his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. Gently, she blew to cool the heat.

~o~o~o~

The council was made for musty old men. It did not use to be so. Once when his father regaled him with stories of the court, he spoke of the young king who was eager for change, of a council of peers who debated politics and came to court to lobby an agenda. This time, it seemed everyone was there to please the old man.

"It pleases us that you can join us this morning," greeted the king.

Chuck nodded, and looked around him to see the distrust or anxiety in the different faces, as if his presence threatened their place in the king's favor. He could not blame them. He was there to gain the prime spot, the king's right hand, to be the first man the king turned to when he needed anything of importance accomplished. He could take the place of five men easily. Chuck only needed the chance to prove it to the king.

Chuck bowed to the king, and said, "I apologize for my tardiness, sire. For certain, it was hard to pull myself from bed."

Henry nodded. "I know your bride was eager to exhaust you last night."

When he asked the king for leave the night before, Chuck had told the king he felt ill. Whatever conclusion the king had drawn from his leaving with Blair, it was Henry's. He did not wish to speak of Blair here in the company of old men. Nor did he wish, despite Blair's assurances, to achieve the king's regard by the fact that he was wed to the queen's cousin. In court, you needed to live or die by your own merits. If not, the court ruled you.

"Do you remember what I told you, Chuck?"

"You need my service, my lord," Chuck said. "I would never forget such an important message from my king."

Henry nodded, pleased. "The time has near come, Chuck. The queen is heavy on the crown. The people abhor her for the loss of Catherine and the dastardly treatment of my darling Mary." But it had always been so, these years past. Even before the queen was crowned, and Anne was a mere mistress who conducted her affairs like a queen. Henry had never complained, never allowed public opinion to influence him. Chuck was certain the blonde had much to do with it. Jane. He was going to discard yet another queen for yet another lady-in-waiting. "A change is coming, lad. I need you in my service when it happens."

Chuck looked around him, and noted the quiet confidence in his companions even as the king asked for his help. He licked his lips, and knew from their stance that each man in that room had been appointed his own assignment. When the king made his pronouncement, every man would know what to do.

He glanced at the earl of Surrey, for what reason he could not tell. When he met the man's gaze, Surrey veered his eyes away. Chuck shook his head and turned to the king. "Forgive me, my lord, but there is something that does not sit well with me in this company."

"Everything that will be done is for the service of your king," Surrey intoned. It was the sort of assurance that chilled him, that reminded him of the way his father died. All in the service of his majesty. It was enough to make him afraid, a grown man who had gone through many things. It was enough to make him fear for his wife.

Henry frowned and leaned forward. "Chuck, you told me you love your king above all else. Is that not true?"

"It is, my lord," he answered, and why he found it easier to lie than tell the truth he could not know.

"Then you shall see that your reward will be greater than anything you shall lose."

~o~o~o~

She opened her eyes and felt the heat of the sun on her skin. The bed beside her was empty. She sat up and felt the cool air on her breasts, then looked down and recognized her state of undress. Her breasts were marked red in places where he had been most passionate, and she flushed at the memory of his dark head upon her chest. She blinked at the drawn curtains.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but still Blair had Dorota assist her into her clothes, learning belatedly that it was soon the noon time meal.

"The queen will have me hung for missing the morning rituals," Blair complained.

"Lord Bass said clear—Do not wake up madame countess," Dorota reasoned.

"Well Chuck is not the one the queen will punish for being lazy!"

It was not as if Anne would do her harm. Blair trusted in her cousin enough that her familial responsibility will always be over any other rule of law, or preferences. Still, she would not enjoy another one of Anne's lectures about her husband. Since the beginning, even when Anne taught her ways to snare men in court, she had never been as convinced of Chuck's suitability than was Blair. Then again, Blair had considered nothing more than her own attraction to Chuck when she chose the man.

When she finally was prepared to join the court, she made it only to the noon time meal. Blair took her seat to the left of the queen, and when Anne turned to her she pretended to see someone from the far end of the table and nodded to a ghost. She felt the hand on her back, and Blair turned around to see her husband come up behind her. She smiled and waited for his tease about how long it took for her to regain her strength.

It did not come. He was somber when he requested to speak with her. Blair stood, and looked down when Chuck closed his hand around hers and drew her with him out of the castle and towards the gardens.

"Chuck, what is it?"

"I want you to come with me to Arundel."

Her eyes narrowed. "The queen is with child, and it is a difficult bearing."

"I do not ask. You are my wife, countess."

She had never questioned it. Celebrated it even. Chuck had been so obstinate about remaining in the presence of the king, being the trusted man until he regained as much influence as the Bass have lost the past three years. "Chuck, you cannot think it is better for you to tend to your estates. Not now. The king admires you. He cannot conclude his council meetings without you."

"Blair, trust me," he pleaded with her, and her heart softened.

"Have you done something awful, Chuck?" she demanded in a quiet voice. "Are you asking me to escape with you, to get away from the court?" He nodded. And she did not need to know what it was, or why. "Alright. Alright, Chuck. We will leave. I shall take the queen's leave."

She turned to go back, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "You can tell no one."

"You want to slip away in the middle of the night," she whispered. "Is that what you want, Chuck?"

She felt him behind her, pressed close. His arms came up around her and she did not even wait for him to answer. She would have said yes to anything he wanted. "That is what we need," he said. She turned around in his arms, and looked up to meet his eyes. "I know this is a lot to ask."

She shook her head, and kissed his lips. "Then walk in there and share a meal, speak to them, dance when the music plays. And then in the middle of the night, we shall slip away. No one ever needs to know." She looped her arms around his shoulders. Blair pulled herself up and whispered into his ear, "Thank you for taking me with you this time."

And when he kissed her cheek in reply, she thought to herself, what Chuck Bass never said, Chuck Bass showed in every single thing he did. They returned inside and ate, and when the afternoon wore down and the revelry began, Chuck held out a hand to her and danced with her. She felt the queen's eyes on her, and her heart broke that she could not tell her cousin what she planned. He held her close and spun her around, displayed her to the court for the first time as he danced her around the floor. As the music sped, his hands tightened around her waist. Even as she leapt she was certain she would land quite safely on her feet.

She fell against him when the music stopped, and Blair laughed and looked up to him. She gasped for breath, and then nodded. "Let us be home to Arundel, my lord."

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

**1533**

The horse was a gift from her father, sent from France where they said that Harold Waldorf took to seven famed stables to choose a horse with his daughter's temperament. When she received the palfrey, with its bright purple bow tied around its long, sleek neck, she had been curious to know how the horse behaved that her father would think the horse possessed her nature.

With its shiny black coat and the long black hair, the palfrey stood proud even as it was held by thin leather reins. She stood out in the shelter of the protruding roof of the stable. The skirt of her gown was sodden, but she was not to wait inside at the roaring fire. The cold rain sprayed on her face, but she was not to be commanded inside. When even in front of the fire she was cold, there was no reason she would heed. Anne had sent word that the palfrey was to arrive and she had waited for the animal with bated breath. It was a link to home and her parents, a warm connection she needed those past days. She had not seen a soul save the servants for much too long.

"Lady Blair?" the gentleman called through the loud white noise of the rain.

Blair squinted at the figure, who was cloaked in protection against the storm. "My lord!" she greeted, erring on the side of caution.

"The wind is brisk! You will die of a chill."

Despite the warning, Blair stepped out from under the roof and into the rain. Within a second she was drenched. But the horse neighed and its hooves splashed water from the puddles. The horse appeared nervous. So would she if she were brought from home to some secluded castle, surrounded by strangers. "What a handsome little devil you are," she murmured close to horse's ear. Blair ran her head up and down the long neck. "There. That is fitting. I shall call you Handsome."

Blair turned to her visitor and bid him enter the castle. "My maid has hot broth to warm your belly after your cold journey." She pulled the edge of her cloak around her body. "Come, Handsome," she urged the horse, "let us select board for you."

She returned to the keep dripping wet from the rain, but was grateful that there were two large steaming bowls in place. The man sat before his bowl, his broth untouched. A gentleman, she realized, if he expected that the lady should sit before him and share the meal.

She shed her cloak and accepted the thick throw that Dorota handed to help her dry. The table stood in front of the fireplace, a perfect place to dry. Blair glanced at her visitor and found him staring at her distended belly.

"You are breeding," he voiced in surprise. Upon realizing how rude he sounded, he clarified, "I am unused to the sight. The last I saw you were—"

"Have we chanced upon each other before, my lord?" She could not remember the man, despite his familiar face. Then again, she had merely been a few months in court when Anne decided irrefutably that Blair needed to be secluded in Hever Castle, away from the court's prying eyes. Four months it took, before her belly swelled enough that she had to be hidden away lest scandal completely ruined her name. "I cannot tell."

At this, the gentleman stood from the table and walked towards her, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Blair smiled in pleasure, for she had not been witness to such courtly courtesy in all the time she had been hidden. She missed the court. "Lord Arundel, Jack Bass, at your service, my lady."

Blair was taken aback, for the man seemed so different than the man she knew in court as Chuck's uncle. She had seen him but a few times, and the pallor and body she saw in Jack Bass compared little to the man in court.

"We met at last Solstice. And you were not with child."

"I was," Blair told him. Two moons since she had lain with Chuck then during Solstice celebration, and even she had not known of the seed that Chuck had left in her belly. "Why should the queen send me to her castle of isolation?"

"The court was rife with talk when you departed."

Talk had been the queen's fear for her. She had once thought talk powerful, but from months in her open prison and away from the prying eyes of the court—

Blair had never felt more open, freer. She had never thought herself ever to blossom so far away from the pomp and circumstance since the day she attended the French court. Always she craved the attention, knew she was meant for the same grand fate as her cousin who rose to become the queen of England. And yet there she was, sent in her disgrace to Hever and she bloomed. She could walk barefoot in her chambers because no one but Dorota would ever enter, and there was no audience who could come in at any time eager to see the queen. She could cool her throat in the breeze, and there were no heavy clothes to burden and hide her swelling belly.

"Let them talk," she answered, for the court knew only rumors of her affair, and Anne had made it her fierce duty that not a whisper of Blair's coming child would reach court.

His gaze did not leave her pregnancy yet, and she folded her hands over her belly. "I trust that you shall not breathe a word, my lord."

"I am not to cast my shadow in court for long," he assured her, and Blair wondered at the loss in the man's voice. There was a brilliance in his eyes in the way he regarded her, like he were a man dying of thirst and all of a sudden found a fountain. "Mayhap no one ever need know, for it shall not pass through my lips. I am away to Arundel and the king asked my favor in taking the beast to you."

Blair's eyebrows rose. "You speak as if you have no intention of returning to court." It was preposterous. An earl—the earl of Arundel—to remain in the country so long he would lose his place. And then—she frowned upon her realization—that the man bore with him such cloak of pallor as he moved, as if his feet dragged, and his air labored. She said, musingly, "How odd of the king to require an earl to escort a horse."

"Perhaps the king thinks you worth the gesture," Jack told her. "I have no doubt. The queen has him wrapped around her littlest finger." His regard of her was unsettling. Blair fidgeted with her fingers and looked for the easiest way away. But he seemed intent to tell her, since he realized her state. And then, with a small chuckle, he said, "My dear wife had such power, that woman. I had been in love with her years before I had her."

And had her he did, the dowager countess, for but a few months. The shame of it for certain kept Chuck away, and what bitter irony that Evelyn Bass perished soon after.

Blair nodded, and for courtesy offered her condolences.

"A pity she was not long for this world, that she could not bear me a son."

Blair swallowed, then rose to her feet. It could not be appropriate to speak of such matters with the earl. Because it was that Jack Bass had done her and crown a favor, she had chambers prepared that the earl might spend the night. "Your chambers shall be ready shortly, my lord. I find," she reasoned, placing her hand on her belly, "that I must take to bed early in the night these past days."

She started to leave the room. "I trust you can find your way."

"Your day has almost come upon you," he said abruptly. "You shall have your child in three moons."

"Half that time, my lord, if the king's physician speaks true," Blair corrected him. And she froze, wondering why it was he needed to know.

"So much talk in court," he said. "One in particular caught my fancy. That you lay with my nephew before he departed."

She would have been offended were it not true. Her voice was light, breezy, and the lightness was her nerves. "So much talk you know not which is real," she offered flippantly, but knew it would not there end.

"My wife," he said softly that Blair strained to hear, "before she died, asked that I swear Arundel would return to her son."

She did not turn back to look at him. Blair closed her eyes. What heartbreak it must have been, she thought, for a mother that she would never see her child again. The countess of Arundel's end of days must have been cruel. "You cannot pass the king's gift over to Chuck Bass. He has gone and the king gave the peerage to you."

"I cannot," Jack admitted. "Even if I wished, I have not time to search the world for him." Blair turned her head, and noticed then that Jack stood close at her back. He told her quietly, "There is a sickness in my gut that's eaten its way to my body. I am not long for the world."

She held her breath. "My lord earl, are you come home to die?" she asked, her heart sinking.

And he answered, "I cannot fulfill my wife's wish, my lady, but I can ensure that Arundel returns to Evelyn's family." And that was when she knew why Jack looked at her as if she were salvation. "Lady Blair, are you carrying my nephew's child?"

**1536**

"Hello, Handsome," she said quietly, running her gloved hand down the sleek black neck of her palfrey. "Handsome, have you prepared yourself and rested well? We have a long way to go."

"I have a carriage hired for us," she heard from the entryway. Blair jumped in surprise and looked over to see her husband. "We are to meet it outside."

Involuntarily her hand looped around the leather reins. "On horse we shall travel faster," she told him. In truth, she did not wish to part with her steed. Handsome was a friend. He had come into her life when she was the loneliest, had been her companion all these years. "He was a gift."

Chuck entered the stables and stopped before her. He took the reins from her hand and walked the beast to his stall. He faced her, then said, "It is a long and hard road, and I shall not endanger you or the babe I know you carry."

"I am not with child," she told him firmly.

"After these past nights we were together, you must admit, Blair, it is highly likely my seed has taken root inside you," he reminded her. Chuck drew a stray lock of her hair and tucked it inside her coif. "It is not my place, but I will ask you to leave the beast. It is our sacrifice."

"And who shall care for him?" she asked with a hitch in her voice.

"I swear," he told her, taking her hands in his. He raised her hands to his lips. "When we reach Arundel I shall get you a beautiful mare."

Blair glanced back at Handsome tearfully. "We shall not send for him?"

"When we leave the court, we leave it." 

She bit her lip. She saw Dorota standing at the doorway. She rushed towards her maid and threw her arms around her. "Dorota, will you have Anne care for my horse? He is dear to me."

"Aye, my lady," the maid sobbed. Blair glanced back at Chuck. Dorota's voice dropped. "You can take him so you are not lonely. Tell earl, my lady, that you cannot be with child. They said—I remember—you were ripped inside and the blood—"

Blair turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears seeped from her eyes. She could not look at her. To do so would be a reminder, as if she looked at the horrid, gruesome scene. "No!" she said.

"You do not tell earl?" Dorota asked in surprise. "He know in future."

Blair gripped Dorota's hands and said, "The worth of a woman is the sons she can give her husband." Heaven knew Anne subscribed to it, with her third pregnancy in three years time. Queen Catherine suffered from it, and was set aside when she could not bear a son. "I am not prepared to be worthless to my husband."

"And Annie—"

Blair shook her head. Even now she could not bring herself to say the name in conversation. "He knows not her." The maid looked disapproving, and she could not bear that Dorota would so think her wrong. "Dorota," Blair said in a hush, pulling her maid to the side, "if he knows he will despise me. He has only just come back to me."

"Why he hate you? Lord Chuck not hate you, Lady Blair."

"Because I was weak, wed Jack and brought the punishment upon myself and my daughter." Even now she was not prepared to return to Arundel where she knew she would face them, those wisest who warned her about the punishment. They warned her and still she did not listen. "They said Jack was cursed, that God had punished him."

Dorota shook her head and made a sign of the cross. "Lady Blair, do not speak such things of a poor soul at rest."

It had been driven into her mind while she sat outside the master chambers in Arundel, listening to Jack's fitful pained cries.

"Remember what they said? Remember, Dorota. 'And if a man shall take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing: he hath uncovered his brother's nakedness; they shall be childless.'" And they had sworn that God had punished Evelyn, punished Jack for their sin. Blair had entered into a marriage cursed from the beginning, for Jack had yet to pay for his sin.

"Do not listen to them, Lady Blair."

She blinked. "They were right. They told me God would take away from me for what I had done." She did not voice what most she feared. She had lain with Chuck, outside the bounds of marriage, had taken him to husband in her body. And while she bore his child she wed his uncle. "The punishment took Annie. Dorota, if he learns of Annie, he would know I am cursed too." She had no doubt upon their return, when word reached the Cathedral that the new earl had arrived, they would come and they judge her for yet another sin.

"You not cursed. It was misfortune, but you not punished, Lady Blair," Dorota insisted, as she had since the night that the queen sat on the edge of her bed and told her, with her hand in her grasp, what the king's physician broke to her. It was the secret that Anne kept even from the king, because in the world, such news would have sent her straight to the convent. "When the earl learns—"

"In two moons, perhaps three?" And it could be that long if she successfully held off the pious of Arundel, who had before warned her of Jack and Evelyn's punishment. "Perhaps that is enough for me, Dorota." Blair glanced back to see Chuck on his way outside. They would soon leave, and she would count the days down before he would ask and wonder why their nights bore no fruit. Before then, she would live everything she hoped to live the day she met him and knew she loved him. Blair licked her lips. She took from the folds of her skirt the folded letter she had painstakingly written, and slipped it into Dorota's hand. "Will you give this to Lord Archibald?"

Dorota looked down at the letter, and glanced at Chuck. To Blair, she asked in a loud whisper, "What is it, my lady?"

"A home for us in three months time," she told her maid.

Chuck stopped near to them, and Blair turned around and held out her hand. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her against him. To the maid, he said, "Well, Dorota, fare thee well. We shall send for you when we are able."

"Aye, lord. Will you care for my lady?"

Chuck looked down at Blair, and wiped a tear with his gloved thumb. "It is not an end, Dorota. We leave for our home; we build our family," Chuck answered. She wondered how Chuck would explain away the departure from the king, who was bound to know that they would stay in Arundel. His hand was warm through the dress when he cupped her belly. "Mayhap we have already begun."

Blair forced a smile on her face, and knew that she was on her way to hell, just as they had predicted. "Perhaps, my lord."

She would remember it always—what they did next. He took her hand in his and together they ran from the stables, across the paved lawn and towards the shed. She saw the black carriage gleaming outside the gates. Blair looked up at him, ran her eyes over his face, memorized every line so that he would stay in his memory through the cold nights she knew would come. "I leave with you because I love you," she told him.

She did not even know why he left the court then, but blindly she dove into his decision. Together in the cloak of darkness they ran to the vehicle. As the carriage rolled, she glanced back through the window and watched Greenwich disappear.

And so, she thought, it truly begins.

~o~o~o~

She woke inside the darkness of the carriage, and the first that she saw was Chuck's shadowed face as he looked out of the window. Her head rested against the cushioned side of the carriage. She did not make a sound. Instead she watched his face, spectacular in her eyes, as he looked out at the lands that were now, by virtue of their marriage, his again.

Past the windows she could tell they were passing through the roads by the steep cliffs. Chuck's jaw was tight as he looked, and he swallowed deeply. Her heart skipped when he took a large breath to contain himself. Then she could not help her action and she leaned forward and closed her hand around his.

"You are home," she said. He nodded briskly. She added, "Where you belong."

He met her eyes and he gave her the slightest smile that told her she had done right. Of all the grave sins she had done these years past, for the sin that Jack had convinced her to commit, she had done right at least in this. Arundel was for its rightful heir.

She gingerly rose from her seat in the cramped space and leaned over towards her husband. At once his arms opened and he helped her settle on his thigh. She kissed the exposed skin on his neck. "Do you see that lighthouse?"

"Aye," he said of the blinking light atop the tower below them, down in the beach. "My father and I used to visit that lighthouse."

"Will you take me there?"

"It is old and dank. The steps are rickety," he said.

"Take me," was her request.

And so he nodded.

"Have you been there?"

"No."

"When I was in Europe I abhorred and loved the thought of England waiting for me. When I think of home I thought of this patch blackness that I could not desire. Except when I thought of you, I wanted to be home." She lowered her eyes. He had not admitted as much before, but they were mere words now.

She said, "You forgot me."

"I was not prepared for you, for anyone," he told her. "But I came home," he said, as if it was all the assurance she needed.

"For your title," she reminded him.

"It was my responsibility. But I wanted to be home for you."

"It's Arundel over me."

They settled on the seat together, and Blair looked down at their linked hands. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed deep. She would remember the scent of him long after he was gone from her life. If there were three months left, they would be the longest moons, the most beautiful.

They passed by the Arun river, through the small town. When they approached the castle, she smiled as she looked out the window. The road was rough as they rolled higher up the hill. The familiar keep and motte rose in the horizon. Soon, they drew nearer and Blair looked at the thick walls surrounding the keep.

"There she is," Chuck whispered.

She did not need to watch the approach to the castle. She had been through those walls and walked across the courtyard many times. The outer buildings were familiar to her. Instead she watched the light in his face as they rode towards the castle.

It was but the break of dawn when they arrived, but a few of the people within the keep had gathered in the castle. He stepped out of the carriage and the hair on her arms stood as she heard the smattering applause and the muted cheers that greeted Chuck the moment he had his feet on the ground. They welcomed him home, and even from the carriage she saw that Chuck recognized a few of the townsfolk who gathered for him.

He was home.

It was later that he turned around and extended a hand to her. She allowed that he help her out of the carriage. There was a hush pall that fell over the gathered townsfolk. She looked at the faces around her and knew some. Her heart sank. The welcome merriment fell at the sight of her.

"She has returned. My lady."

Blair felt the tears gather in her eyes. The voice was familiar, for the woman had been sent to pray with her when she refused to release the still bundle that was her beautiful girl. "Vanessa," she whispered in recognition. She had held her up to her side when Jack had been weak with his pain, and Blair could barely stand over the makeshift grave.

When even the Church refused to take her.

"Welcome home, my lady," Vanessa said to her. "God hath taken away all He will for the sin. Have faith that He hath forgiven you."

Evelyn, Annie, Jack. Three lives for the sin of two. It should be more than enough to settle the price. Blair did not wish to speak to her, did not wish to remember, did not wish for Chuck to learn more.

To her left, Chuck addressed the crowd and said, "One welcome to Lady Blair. I assumed Arundel was warm." There was a murmured welcome from the gathering, as requested by the earl. "Lady Blair is come again, your countess." His hand tightened around hers. "My wife."

Vanessa drew a sharp breath before her. "My lord, you cannot marry your uncle's wife. It is a sin." With wide eyes, Vanessa turned back to Blair. "My lady, you should know this. You cannot be naked before your husband's nephew." She grabbed Blair's arm and said, "It is yet another sin. You have just been freed from Lord Jack's punishment!"

Blair threw a look a panic towards Chuck, fearful that he might learn of Annie. To her surprise, Chuck pulled Vanessa's hand from her arm and furiously demanded, "Leave our presence!"

Vanessa turned to him in disbelief. "You do not understand, my lord. You shall die childless. Your line is cursed!"

"Shut your bloody mouth!" Chuck yelled. "Get her away from us," he commanded around him.

And so two of the men took Vanessa away. Blair watched as she vanished from her view. She released a long breath and felt herself succumb to tears of relief. He did not learn her secret, not her shameful, awful sin. She turned to him and he cupped her face in his hands. Blair sobbed in gratitude when he placed kisses on her lips.

"I love you," she breathed to him. Surely, it cannot be a sin.

All day they slept, recuperating from their travel. The next morning when they were fully rested, Chuck fulfilled his promise. Barefoot and together, they ran hand in hand down the rocky beach and crossed the jagged rocks. She looked up at their destination. It was the old lighthouse that they spied from up over the cliffs.

As they neared the water, his hand tightened around hers. She looked back at him. The spray of water was intense.

"Beware," he warned her, "the water and the wind is so strong they can knock you off your feet if you are not careful."

They reached the wet cement steps. He kept his hand on her waist, warm and assuring. She glanced up at him as they made their way. His hair was wet from the spray of the water, and had plastered over his forehead.

"My lord, you appear a wet duck," she said laughingly.

His eyebrows rose. He dropped a kiss on her nose. "And you, sweetheart, look like a siren come to lure me to my death."

She shook her head. She covered his hand with hers. "Worry not, my lord. There is no siren here." They ascended to the top of the lighthouse, and they peered outside the window at the vast sea within sight. "Think of me as your queen. It is my responsibility to protect you."

"You need not protect me," he told her. "I shall take it upon myself to be your guard against these religious zealots we have prancing about." His voice was teasing, but she detected the genuine concern in his voice. "I knew not how very passionate Arundel has become to Leviticus."

"Arundel has faced misfortune since your father passed," Blair told him. "And in misfortune your people turn to God."

"Ours."

She turned to him in surprise, and the wet spray of the wind sent her hair whipping across her face. "I beg your pardon."

"Our people," he reminded her. "Although it seems, from up here, we are the only two in the world." He pushed the wet locks from her face. Chuck asked, "Will you be happy, Blair, if we never returned to court?"

And truthfully she answered, "All I ever wanted was to love you. Even then, when I first came, and I laid my eyes on you, my lord. Even when the queen searched for a man to wed me, all I ever wanted was you."

"You have me," he assured her.

"Then let us stay away from court if that is what you wish." She could imagine the next three months, as long as she could keep his suspicions at bay and he did not wonder why she still did not fill with his child. The next three moons would be heaven in the castle, and she would laugh and love with him enough to fill the rest of her life.

He smiled at the memory. "I was in disbelief—that this young woman, so enthralling she captivated me, so beautiful she took my breath away—wanted me."

"You held yourself so well." She had been aflutter, thinking of a way to have his attention.

"I had achieved nothing. Apart from my name and my father, I was nothing in Henry's court. I told you—I was not prepared for you."

But she had been for him. She had set her sights. He had been the prey to her naive predator. "But I took you," she told him. "Chuck, I would be happy to live with you forever out here." But she knew she could not. After moons, when she did not swell with his heir, he would know. "But you would not be, Chuck. How can you be? You thrive when you please the king."

He did not deny it and she respected him for it. He returned to become as important to the kingdom as his father had been. "Then we shall work on our happiness here."

"I can fade away if you will always be mine," she swore. Blair would even forget the years in the French court. "Perhaps I can while away the years in this lighthouse."

He looked at her in wonder. She could see in his eyes the decision warring inside him. She was chilled from the wet clothes and the wind. Blair wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. She heard the rumble in his chest at his murmur. Chuck slanted his mouth over hers.

She felt even more the chill as he peeled away the wet clothes from her skin. Her fingers flew to his clothes and she helped reveal his body. The hairs on her arms stood, and his palms then worked to rub warmth into her body. She laughed when he blew a circle between her breasts as her nipples perked into attention. He chuckled as he licked the hard nubs of her pebbled nipples.

They sank to the cold brick floor of the lighthouse, kneeling on their discarded garments. He knelt on the floor and helped her sit over him. Chuck guided himself inside her slowly while she gripped at his shoulders. She threw her head back as he filled her.

"Aye," she breathed. "I can remain here forever."

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs on the wet floor. In the afternoon they woke to the soft sunlight pouring in through the window. She smiled a satisfied smile and rested her head on his chest. She drew her fingers down playfully from his chest to his navel. When her hand went lower, he caught it and brought it to his lips. She laughed gently, guilty and caught.

"Why?" she heard him ask.

She lay on her stomach and looked at him. "Why?"

"I asked myself then, when I was nothing, why you loved me." Blair allowed herself to imagine him lone in a ship that sailed, or in front of a fireplace with wine in hand, thinking of a question that he could not answer himself. With a trace of apology in his voice, he continued, "I ask you now—when I have all but called you a whore—why you love me still."

"Is there a reason that I need?" she asked, drinking in his face. His head rested on the pillow of his arm. "I do, is all I know."

"That is dangerous, Blair. You loved me before I deserved it, and love me still when I clearly should have lost you," he said quietly.

She inched up towards him and laid her head on his bare chest. "I pity you such awful awful heartache, my lord, that you should be so loved," she teased. He kissed the top of her head, and she swore she felt him draw in a deep breath to remember her scent. "I wish I suffered the same heartache—"

"Blair…"

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The guilt and pain that warred in his voice. It was unwarranted. He had shown her enough these past days that he would be there for her.

"Hush," she assured him. Blair nuzzled her nose over the hair on his chest, then dropped a kiss near where his heart beat. Blair whispered, "I know—"

"I shall be kinder," he said. "This much I promise. I shall be kinder, and you shall not regret being my wife."

tbc

I hope this shed some more light into the story, and I hope you're still reading.

Incidentally, wish me a happy birthday. hehe


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I'm glad you guys are open to the fact that the beliefs in those days were very different from our lives now. And thank you for the responses from the last part. I was happy to know you were reading the story. This part should shed some light on Chuck's feelings and will give a narrative to the past that you already know. Much love.

**Part 8**

**1533**

There had been voices around her. They were all around—family, strangers. They spoke of her in their grave voices but she could not see past the haze in her vision. Her entire body was heavy, pushed deep into the bed. In and out through the night she came and went.

"My lord earl, you must avoid the countess' bed," said one, and she surmised that Jack had left his bed for her chambers.

"You will allow her time to heal," told another, and Blair supposed such authority only to come from Anne.

But she was deep in her world, unable to rise. She felt the warm, moist towels that were places on her forehead and assumed she had the fever.

At times in the night, she heard the mewling cry, so tiny and weak. Her breasts ached and for a time there was an elderly woman who held her up and bared her chest. And her head hung limp to her side as she felt the soft lips brush against her nipple and turn away.

"The child won't feed, majesty."

She forced herself to wake, knew they knew for she heard Anne's voice murmur to her to comfort her. Her hazy vision, pinpricks of her surroundings, recognized Anne sitting by the window of her chamber holding the small bundle to her chest.

"My lady, in her fever she calls."

"Hush!" came Anne's voice. "Purse your mouth and I shall be generous to you."

She felt the calming touch on her arm. "Your majesty, begging your pardon but it would do her good if we should ask the lord to come—"

That gasp. "It is the late earl's son she calls for, not her husband."

"Aye. The late earl's son who's run away from the kingdom and abandoned her. Tell me, shall we call the earl from his deathbed to hear his wife call for another man, or shall I send my men to scour France and Spain and Italy to hunt down a man who does not wish to be found?"

Another voice. Through the fog in her brain, Blair recognized the man who celebrated Mass in the chapel within the castle. "It is Jack's sin come to take another victim," intoned the chaplain.

"What are you doing?"

"Shriving time, majesty," was the somber answer. Blair swore she felt the cool wetness as he signed the cross on her burning forehead.

"Leave."

The bed dipped, and Blair swore that the memory was not from her fever, that truly she remembered it. In her addled mind she thought that Anne had placed her daughter in her arms, and for a moment, little Annie opened her bleary eyes to see her mother before they closed forever.

In her sleep, as the bed rocked to Anne cradling the infant, Blair heard the queen sing a French lullaby their mothers sang to them as little children.

"Chut, mon bébé, dors tranquille, dors tranquille. Ta maman est partie au moulin, au moulin.  
Bébé pleure, il veut qu'on le garde bien. Chut, mon bébé, dors tranquille, dors tranquille," Anne sang. The queen's voice was soft as she lulled even Blair into sleep, to regain her strength, to become strong.

She woke, sore in every fiber but she pulled herself up sit on the bed. Her body felt ripped apart and wrung, and yet her heart only craved to find that part of her that had been parted. Her arms ached to hold her child. When she saw Anne sitting on the rocking chair, she called gently. Her cousin turned to her, relief on her face. "I had feared for certain you had left us, Blair."

She tried to speak, but her throat was raw from the screams of her daughter's birth. "Give me Annie," she rasped.

There was surprise that registered on her cousin's face. The name, she had chosen the name in her fog when she learned they spoke of a girl. "Annie," the queen repeated. Anne glanced down at the bundle in her arms, and hesitated. Blair reached her arms towards Anne. Anne's eyes showed fear and sadness. And then, finally, a quiet resolve with which the queen stood from the cramped seat and made her way to Blair's bed.

"Blair, cherie," Anne said, her voice calm, controlled. The queen sat on the side of the bed and leaned forward. "Your angel slipped away in the night."

And all the world had stopped.

Of a sudden, at those words, all the breath had left her body.

Gently, Anne laid the still bundle in her frozen arms. Blair's eyes filled, and she blinked them away to burn into her brain the face of the infant in her arms. She looked up at the queen, and in her shock she said, "She was crying. I heard her. She was alive. Anne, I heard my daughter."

"The birth was difficult, Blair," Anne explained. But the queen's voice had drifted, and had been the thinnest thread. "Her cord wrapped around her neck and you could not birth her at her breach. You almost died."

But all she knew was the voice she heard in the night, the cry of the angel. Through Anne's lullaby she knew she heard her little girl. She brushed fingertips over the slits of Annie's eyes. "Wake up, baby." And the child was still.

Anne's hand rested on her thigh. It was as much comfort as she could offer, pathetically small in the face of death. "In the wee hours, Blair, when we knew she would not last the night, I held her to my breast that she would hear a heart close by and know she was not alone," was the queen's assurance. "I promise, Blair, she was not in pain."

"Was—How?"

"She slipped away while she slept." Blair stared at her cousin in disbelief. Yet Anne, she knew, had lost already suffered the loss of a child. The queen told her what she should hear, and despite its futility to take her pain away she knew that over time she would come back to the same words to heal her heart. "Blair, like an innocent she slept. Her chest stilled, and she passed in a dream. The angels came and took her soul to heaven."

Blair squeezed her eyes shut. She kissed the cool, pursed lips and sobbed. She patted the bundle with her hand and rocked her to her chest, and sang to her, on her way to heaven, the same song that Anne had sung. Annie should know her mother's lullaby as well. "Hush-a-ba, baby, lie still, lie still; Your mammie's away to the mill, the mill; Baby is weeping for want of good keeping, Hush-a-ba, baby, lie still, lie still."

She had been exhausted. The life had been taken from her by the days long labor that had yielded nothing but death. Just like she had been warned as she knelt in the chapel. Punishment. Punishment was everlasting for Jack's sin, and that punishment would find its way to her. She lay on the bed with the bundle beside her, staring at Annie until sleep dragged her back into its fold.

There were not enough apologies to utter.

**1536**

He roamed the castle in his search. He had held his breath for his one plan for breakfast, but the plan went flying through the window in her absence. When she did not join him for their morning meal, Chuck went to the kitchen to see if his wife was there. His heart stopped. In his panic he ran up the steps two at a time as he headed for the library. He opened the door and found it empty. Chuck released a deep breath. He walked towards the earl's desk and pulled open the drawer, then calmed at the sight of the rolled parchment still tucked inside.

He needed to burn the missive. The news was worth too much, yet endangered so much what he had built that it would pay to destroy it.

He walked towards the fireplace and unrolled the parchment, read the report that Daniel Humphrey had written for him on the affairs in court. Even away Chuck knew to survive he needed to keep his eyes and ears in court, and Daniel did for him, for a humble price that he would not even feel and his vow to keep silent on Serena van der Woodsen. For weeks since his escape Daniel had written of the court.

Forces worked, Daniel wrote, towards the very end that Chuck had expected. Lady Jane was established in one of Henry's houses, and the king moved pieces on his board to place the pawns in exactly the right place.

'The end to the queen is nigh,' Daniel wrote. 'And very soon, I know I shall witness the fall of Anne Boleyn.' Chuck knew that Blair would not forgive him the silence, but he had hidden away the missive at the very next statement that he read. 'The queen had lost the pregnancy, and it is the son that would have been her only savior. Serena tells me that the queen wishes his cousin were by her side.'

It was a selfish thing, was his judgment. The queen could not wish for Blair to endanger her life for her sake. Anne had to know that the time would come that she would suffer the same way that Catherine had suffered, that as she aged to expect that Henry would set her aside for the younger lady-in-waiting. It was the very thing the king did to his aging wife.

No, he would not expose Blair to the fall of Anne Boleyn. He had seen the clear intent on the king, as he sought to set aside his wife. He would not have Blair among the many sacrifices to fulfill the wishes of the king.

Chuck rolled back the parchment, anxious to watch it burn. He heard the knock on the door and turned to see the chaplain come to see him. He tucked Daniel's letter into his vest and gestured the man inside.

"I am come, Lord Bass, to advise you on a way to save Arundel from suffering," the chaplain offered.

Chuck frowned. He walked towards the desk and sat behind the imposing authority of Arundel. He nodded towards the seat before him and the chaplain took his seat. "You are saying the people of Arundel have a crisis of faith."

"The people have suffered punishment since your lord father died. There was a sin committed, my lord—Lord Jack and Lady Evelyn," the chaplain shared.

Chuck sat back in his seat, and remembered the overzealous words that the woman Vanessa had thrown at his wife when they had first arrived. Now he knew where it stemmed from, and the chaplain was powerful in his words. To many they carried the proclamation of their Church thoughtlessly, wholeheartedly. His heart had been ripped apart by his mother's marriage to Jack, but never once did he think it an immortal sin.

"Until the word of God was unfulfilled, Arundel suffered." He remembered it well, after Vanessa had screamed to his wife's face. The man and the woman would die childless. "I pity Lady Blair, my lord, that she had suffered the punishment of your uncle. Lord Jack needed to die childless, and for it she suffered. We had thought our suffering over when the Lord took Lord Jack away home."

"Jack is dead. I know not why you continue on this vein."

"We had thought to start anew, my lord, but Arundel cannot begin with a clean slate when you had sinned by marrying your uncle's wife." The chaplain leaned forward, completely calm when he said, "The only way you may serve your people well, in the manner which your father faithfully served Arundel, is to set aside the sin—set aside your uncle's wife."

A cold chill settled over his body. Chuck said softly, "You seek to poison my heart against my own countess?"

The chaplain corrected, "My lord, I seek to save your immortal soul."

"My immortal soul is bound to my wife," Chuck said, and only then in the quick response did he realized how true it was. "The archbishop saw to it when he married me to Lady Blair."

"You shall die childless!"

It was a curse. Nothing was more unforgiving to a man. "You spew filth!"

"Lady Blair is cursed by her marriage to Lord Jack, and she has cursed you by seducing you, my lord!"

Chuck stood up and pointed to the door. He glowered at the chaplain. "Get out."

"You will see, and you will be fortunate to live in regret of it. This house has seen blood and death for too long, and the Basses have dragged Arundel with them. Your wife knows all about the suffering the sin has caused."

Chuck grabbed the chaplain and pulled him to speak close to hi voice. "You and your kind shall do well to leave Arundel by nightfall," he warned softly. "And if I ever learn you have spoken to my wife I shall hunt you down like the pigs that you are."

"It is in the Book."

"Leave us be."

"Ask her. Ask your wife about the grave dug within your castle walls," the chaplain told him. "Ask her why there is a stray soul died unshriven that sleeps in the bailey, my lord, and you will understand your people."

To this, he responded, "Get you gone from my land, chaplain, or I shall throw you out on your arse within sight of the town."

"You seek to anger your people."

"If they persist on harassing my wife, then they angered me first. Remember, chaplain, as soon as I married her, this land was mine. I want you gone."

"Then you shall burn in hell," the chaplain vowed.

He shook with fury long after the chaplain had gone. Chuck sat in his father's chair, glaring at the shut door. Chuck walked to the window and looked out where he had seen his father look out many times in his life. Oft Bartholomew had spent long moments looking out the window after receiving the latest of the king's missives. Chuck would find Bartholomew staring out of the window and when he asked, Bartholomew would tell him, "I am deciding, Chuck." He had challenged the earl, because he appeared to only stare out instead of think. And so Bartholomew had lifted him to his arms and pointed down towards his mother's garden. There his mother knelt on the ground, tending to her flower pads. "When I am to decide, Chuck, I watch her and decide which shall serve her best interest."

So Chuck looked out the window, and his gaze wandered to the abandoned garden. He inhaled sharply when he saw instead a swing in the garden, and Blair sitting on it. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

When he reached his mother's garden, Chuck hesitated. He looked towards the swing and saw the same thing that he did from afar. Blair sat on the swing, with her head resting on the tight rope to her right, looking off towards the barren, rocky corner of the garden. He took a step towards her and said her name.

She did not turn around, and he realized she did not even hear him. He said her name again. He frowned. She seemed lost in thought. Chuck walked towards her and stopped beside her. When he cast a shadow over her, she realized she was not alone and looked up at him. And then, she smiled. His heart warmed at the welcome. Immediately he sat beside her on the wooden seat of the swing. Under the morning sun a sheen of sweat had formed on her skin. He leaned forward and kissed the sweat that gleamed just below her ear.

He felt her hand settled on his cheek, and heard her murmur of pleasure.

"I missed you at breakfast," he told her.

She laughed softly. "Then my dastardly plan has worked. I have worked my way under your skin. One meal missed and you come running for me," she teased him.

He raised his head and looked down at her gleaming eyes. She then rested her head upon his shoulder now. "And mine has worked just as well, that now you lean on me than this contraption."

"Contraption? I shall have you know Lord Jack has had this made for me."

Lord Jack. Always she called him that, so formally. She never was unfond, yet countless times in anger or in happiness she had called Chuck by name. In private conversation, always he was Chuck. "If it were I I would have built you something grander."

But she did not take the bait. It seemed she avoided speaking of Jack to him many times. Blair placed her hands upon his shoulder and rested her chin on them. "Chuck," she said, stressing his thought at least, "have you visited the orchards?"

He nodded. "You were right. We did not need gold for seed." He could see the twinkle in her eyes, and she delighted in hearing that she had won that argument. "The foreman spoke to me. After the right care, the trees they thought were dead and not bear fruit was full blossoming. They will have a good harvest."

"We need to have a mass of thanksgiving for this is a blessing!" And asking him a favor she said, "May I plan for the thanksgiving? I believe I shall be very good at it."

"Spending our gold and ordering the servants about to throw a lavish celebration?" he asked. "Countess, you have that gift. Sight unseen, I must say, it shall be a success." And then, he placed a hand over hers, held it tight. "There may be some delay in your mass, Blair. The chaplain has gone from the parish, and we need to ask the archbishop to send one anew."

Blair gasped in surprise. "What has happened to the chaplain?"

Easily, he lied, "His mind had gone from fear and panic, and I decided he needed to be gone." Blair's gaze drifted down, and he placed a finger on her chin and brought her face up. "No one will dare question your place, Blair."

"I know not why he had gone, but I assume it is your doing."

"Nothing happens in Arundel, from now on, that I did not have some part in, Blair." She bit her lip. He plucked the tender skin from her teeth. "You punish your lips, which I so love." He dropped a kiss on her mouth.

She blinked upon hearing the word. If she loved to hear it so, then she would adore the gift he had planned for this morning. Chuck asked her to sit still before him, and then from his pocket he drew out the ruby and diamond ring. She gasped, and her fingers rose to touch the pretty rocks. "For three years I had wanted to give you the countess' ring," he admitted, knowing full well how much he bared with the admission. But it was the truth, and she had to know that the countess' ring had always belonged on her. "I want you to wear this, Blair, and know that you have every right to be here."

He had known she would find it most emotional, and expected the tears she shed when he slipped the ring on her. She had cried, more affected by the gesture out in the daylight than she had been when he put the simple gold band on her during their wedding. "I shall take your tears as happy ones."

And she nodded. Her other hand covered her mouth as she sobbed. And then her hands flew to his face, and she kissed him so fiercely he knew she tried to take all his breath for hers. "It is more of a vow to me than those you made when we married."

Perhaps it was enough to make her happy. "Have I made you happy?"

"I am walking on clouds," she answered.

And for the generosity of her spirit, and her admission of affection, he drew her forward and against his body as he leaned for a kiss. They were in perilous form, hanging on Jack's swing. Chuck planted his feet on either side and wrapped his arms around her that if the wooden seat turned over she would stumble onto his muscle instead of the ground.

Their small, private celebration was interrupted when their names were called. Chuck wondered what it would take to install gates around the garden that they could take some peace for themselves. At the sight of the arrival, Chuck's back straightened.

"Begging your pardon, my lord, my lady. We have need of the countess."

Before Blair rose, Chuck barked, "What for have you need of my lady?" If it were the chaplain or Vanessa or any of those zealots who populated Arundel, they would face the earl first.

"Two women came from the orchards, my lord, and their wagon overturned at the motte. One of the passengers is about to give birth."

Chuck and Blair rose at the same time. The earl asked, "Have we not a midwife in this town?"

"Lords, the midwife was the other passenger and has her arm broken. She tells us your lady might assist as she had some other births in the castle."

Chuck turned to Blair in surprise. "Is this true? Are you able to deliver a child, Blair?"

Blair jerked her head. "Some months past I had been on hand for births. At the time I wished to learn what happens in childbirth."

She picked up her skirt and ran across the courtyard, towards the castle gates. Blair looked out and saw well below the motte the overturned wagon. He followed quickly behind her. She quickly raced and stumbled on the incline. He cursed and caught her arm, then held her against his body. "Careful," he said.

"There is blood," she muttered.

"More if you shall slip and crack your skull on the rocks."

At his warning, Blair nodded her head and made her way down with his assistance. She knelt at the side of the screaming, sweating woman. Blair nodded at the midwife.

"A long time, my lady," the midwife greeted. "Glad to see you hale."

Blair did not respond. She looked at the woman and said, "What is her name?"

"Isabel," the midwife offered. "I shall help you, but you need to be my hands, my lady. You know enough of this process."

"Why have you been traveling when she is near term?" Blair demanded, frantic.

"Women near term do it all. It is not our fault that the wagon wheel is loose and cannot take the bloody motte."

Blair hiked her skirts up and Chuck watched in fascination as she gripped the pregnant woman's hands. "Isabel," Blair cried to penetrate the loud sobbing, "I shall help you deliver your child."

The woman opened her eyes and looked at Blair. "Lady Bass?" Chuck watched with bated breath, expecting the woman's gratitude that one of such noble birth should assist. Yet Isabel drew her hands sharply away and moved, "No. No! Not you, my lady. You are cursed and my child shall die."

Chuck's jaw tightened. Before he could speak, Blair had grabbed the woman's shoulder and sharply smacked her across the face. Isabel's sobbing ceased. She looked at Blair in shock.

"The midwife's arm is broken, and you are hours from the town. There is no one in the castle who can help you. I have little knowledge but I am you only chance that you shall not bleed out and die in the grass." Chuck was riveted. Blair pulled her hair into a tight bun, then demanded, "Will you let me help you and take your chance in cursed hands or shall I leave you with no hands at all?"

Isabel began crying softly, but did not move away from Blair. She looked up at Chuck, and he knew she recognized the anger in his face. She reached a hand, the one that wore his mother's ring, and said for his understanding, "Her mind is addled from the pain. I know it well."

And then Blair took her rings off and closed his hand around them.

What followed, as Blair followed the midwife's instructions and used the resources taken from the castle to the motte, was the most unsettling sight in Chuck Bass' life. He watched as the blood stained his wife's arms, saw the fluids spill onto the expensive gown as the child was expelled from the screaming Isabel's womb. Blair held the bloody child in her arms and wept and laughed. When the mother rose and reached her arms, Blair squeezed her eyes shut tight and handed the child to Isabel. Blair placed a kiss on the woman's forehead.

And in her bloody clothes Blair crawl to where he knelt. She cried, and it was not a beautiful cry. There were specks of blood on her face, and her eyes were red-rimmed and almost slits. "I am a mess!" she cried. And his throat was rock hard and pained, he could not answer. She laughed and cried, and she said aloud, "But I love you."

Chuck's lips trembled at the sight he had just experienced. He took her bloody hand in his and pulled her towards him. His other hand cupped her skull as he pushed his mouth on hers. "My God," he whispered. "I love you, Blair."

The midwife, nursing her broken arm, walked up towards them. Chuck released Blair enough to earn her accolades, but remained close by. The older woman said, "This was a miracle you had done, my lady, the work of God." And he bloody well had been through enough in Arundel that at the mention of her faith he was immediately on guard. "You have helped bring life into this world. That is not work the Lord provides to those who had sinned before him."

Blair turned around, and with a look of apology towards him, she walked away with the midwife until she knew he would not overhear. But he knew these people now, trusted no one with his wife. Chuck followed close at their heel. When they were some distance away, she turned to the woman and away from him she found it easier to answer, "He had punished me for my sin. Do not speak as though all is right."

The midwife shook her head. "Is your God a vengeful God, my lady?"

"My God is the same as yours. You were there," she reminded the woman. "The king's physicians, you—no one could have saved my Annie. She was taken before her time."

His breathing slowed, and blood pumped into his head so quickly he thought his soul was leaving his body then.

"But we saved you, my lady. The sight was a bloodbath more than this with Isabel." The midwife took her hand. "If your God is mine, then perhaps you must think of it that your daughter has lived the life she was meant to have."

"A few hours in the night?" she whispered bitterly.

_Ask your wife about the grave dug within your castle walls. Ask her why there is a stray soul died unshriven that sleeps in the bailey._

"Perhaps those hours were all she was meant for in this world."

"Then your God is cruel. I cannot be happy with that."

"You insist it was a punishment. It has certainly been drilled into your mind enough."

"When she was gone, my only consolation was those who prayed with me. Through a joint prayer, they told me, they insisted that it was sin that took her."

"I believe another way. But if you think that then today is the Lord telling you He has forgiven you." The midwife took her hand and said, "My God is a merciful God. My God is a generous God. He had given you back what you most desire."

"Chuck," she said in wonder, turning around. What she found took her breath from her body, because he had followed her and he had been standing closer than she thought.

"A child, Blair," he managed.

Her tears rained on her face as she nodded.

"Mine," he said. There was no question in his voice.

And the lies were done. He had found the truth sooner than the three moons she swore she would have. So she was honest, and she said to him, "Annie."

"Gone," he said.

She walked towards him, so slowly, like a march to her death. She stopped in front of him, and she could not meet his eyes. Instead he stared at his clenched fist, where he held the ring tight. "She was born from one night with you," she said softly. "A beautiful girl, with a mop of hair as dark as ours. Her cord—She—" Her voice broke. "Chuck, I wish—"

"Where is she?" he asked, knowing from the chaplain's words that his daughter, his Annie, was close by.

And then he brought her face up. "Look at me," he whispered. He searched her eyes, found uncertainty and fear and it stuck in his gut. "You are afraid." Her head jerked and she nodded. "Why?"

"Because I love you so much."

His heart sank. "You cannot be afraid." He lowered his lips and he kissed her, gently, coaxing her mouth open. He tasted her tears on his tongue.

"I love you so much and I shall lose you," she breathed.

"Why?" he asked. There was hope that flickered in her eyes, and he latched on to it. "I told you today, Blair, that I love you. There is no way back." The blood had dried on her hand, and he held it in his hand and then slipped the ring back on her finger. "I wish I had been with you," he confessed.

And she shook her head. "This—this is more than enough."

"Take me to my daughter," he asked.

And they made their way back into the castle, back through the path they had taken before. Blair held his hand tightly as they made their way back to the garden, past the swing, and to the rocky corner that he had earlier seen.

**1533**

The soil was freshly dug. And her eyes were dry. Every time she blinked she thought her lids would stick together and she would never see again.

Beside her, Lord Jack sat, his body heavy, his breaths shallow and frequent. He wandered out into the garden when he barely left his chambers. It was the least he could do.

"I cannot return to the castle," she said at once, because Dorota had asked it of her, and so had Anne.

He did not argue, and she was grateful. "You are a mother standing cautiously by a sleeping infant," Lord Jack said in acknowledgment.

And just when she thought she had been wrung dry, she still choked at her words. "I do not know if I should despise you," she said. "She is gone because I married you." And then, "But I am too exhausted. Hate is tiring."

"You were merciful," he told her. "And you will not leave me alone at the end of my life."

She turned to him and said, "There is no heir, Lord Jack, no way to fulfill your promise to Lady Evelyn."

"You will have it all when I am gone. Keep it within the family. Do not allow this place to return to the throne," he said. "Do not leave."

"Think you I will ever allow this place to slip from my fingers, my lord, with my daughter buried in these grounds?" She closed her eyes and rested her head upon the tight rope of the swing. "Maybe I will sit here forever, keep watch over her. Maybe it is the least that I can do for killing her."

Sadly, he said, "I cannot tell you what to do."

She was so tired, wrung dry. "You have done enough."

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

This will not be as long as the other historicals. When I started, this was a simple premise, unambitious. I needed an exercise to get me back into a writing mood, and I think this has somewhat succeeded in that regard, as I've got a new premise for a sparkier historical CB already in the plotting stage.

Stay with me as we wrap in the next few parts.

**Part 9**

When she returned from court the green grass that covered her daughter had turned yellowish. The polished rocks that she had placed to mark the place were out of the place. The sight of it, so pretty flowered and decorated before she left, and now abandoned and old, was like a shock of cold river on her consciousness. Blindly she had followed Chuck Bass into court when he demanded it and for those weeks while her girlhood dreams were fulfilled, and she married and lay with him, off in Arundel where Annie would always be her little nook faded with the earth.

Was it fair for a mother to live her life when her child lay sleeping?

Blair had slowly nourished back the site and now grew the replanted violets, making the grave pretty and lonely at the same time.

Chuck Bass' shadow cast over her, shading her from the sun, yet at the same time he cast this darkness over her and when she looked up she only saw his dark silhouette. He stood before her, a shelter to hide her from the brilliant sun. The very position rendered him unreadable.

And in that moment, despite her presence, he was alone. She grasped his hand but did not feel his tighten in response. And so she let him go and walked back towards the swing, where she could sit and keep watch over her family. In his solitude the earl knelt before the patch of grass. Blair rested her head against the rope and watched, her brave and arrogant earl, as he remained in still silence before her daughter.

"Dark hair," he said abruptly. "You said she had dark hair." His back was to her, and even now she could not see his face.

"Aye. Near black. Like yours," she answered softly.

He breathed. She saw it in the way his shoulders moved. In court he carried himself with certain pride, and now his shoulder bowed. "And did she take after you, Blair?"

Annie had been an infant when she passed. By now he knew it, and she wondered if he recognized the futility of his own question. There was no way she could answer him that would assure him. But she had hidden the truth of his daughter long enough in her fear and it seemed, to her great surprise, that he welcomed the pain of knowing. Perhaps in this pain he thought he took more part in the past he missed.

Perhaps in the question he opened himself for her to lash, to share some hurt. Heaven knew she had stocked on the hurt for far too long. It was coiled within her, and there was some part of her that was not so kind or sacrificing, a part of her that loved a piece of herself more than she loved him.

"I was near death with childbed fever most of her life. She lived but hours, Chuck, and most of it I slept like the dead." She paused, because she wished so much to say it, wished so much he knew. But it would only cause him hurt. She had to admit, she was not such a pure spirit, and it caused her a bit of joy to have him know, "They said all that time I called your name, like you could save me, like you could save my Annie."

Yet you did not come, she thought to herself.

In response he turned his gaze upon her, and she met his eyes, her jaw locked tight. His eyes were flint, and she swore there was a madness that came upon them. Blair never knew how selfish she was until that moment, when her heart soared to see his pain.

"I cannot tell if she took after me," she said, finally answering his question, "or you. But in the moments I remembered, she looked at me with your eyes and my heart broke." 

He turned back towards the grave, his back to her, and asked, "I want you to tell me why you never told me about her. I want you to tell me why you hid this from me."

"You swore you would return in two moons," she threw back at him. "You swore and then you abandoned me."

His eyes narrowed. "I wrote you in court, and when you did not write to me I knew you had been married off to Archibald."

How easily he could claim letters, a hundred of them. She could as easily tell him she wrote him a thousand of it. And she would lie to his lies and it would be neverending. Was this what he meant when he asked her why she did not respond? But she received nothing, and even wondered for a while if he had died in the Continent. "How many letters, Chuck?"

And quietly, he admitted, "One."

She released her breath. "How utterly devoted," she murmured. When she had spent near a year in her life in shuttered reclusion for one night with him. And then she shook the past away and said, "Today when I held that child in my arms, Chuck, I remembered Anne. I remembered the queen and the child she carries. I must go back to court."

Finally, he rose from his place and Blair noticed in passing the dirt on his trousers. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose. He said, "We cannot go back."

"The birth of Isabel's child reminded me of Anne. I have an obligation to the queen, Chuck."

He stalked over, and cupped her face with his hands. "I was not at your side in your childbed, and had not been here to keep you safe. Now I have left my place in court for you. I betrayed my role to the king so you are safe." 

All this time she had thought he had committed an unwarranted sin against Henry, which had sent them running in the middle of the night. Chuck had ever been the loyal subject. In disbelief, she uttered, "What is this you speak of, my lord?"

He rested his lips on her forehead. "I had left it all for you. Do you recognize how much I love you?" It was a decision he had made long ago, before his declaration of love. It took her breath away that he would claim to have loved her long before.

Yet the declaration made her uncomfortable. She knew this love, whatever he attributed it to, was stained by the lie of omission. She swallowed, and despite how hurtful it was to admit she told him, "I am bleeding. I am not with child." For was it not the child that he feared to lose?

"Then we must try ever harder to conceive," he told her, previewing the efforts with a long kiss that left her clutching at his shoulders.

What love was it, she wondered, that had Chuck Bass betraying all he strove to achieve? It was beyond the love that she had seen before, and she had witnessed such grand love. She had witnessed the love that tore the kingdom from Rome, the love that fell a queen and denied a daughter, a love that brought a woman from the anonymity of a noble line and to the forefront of the monarchy. Yet for all that the king had loved Anne, Blair knew not once that the king had sacrificed his own desires for the good of Anne.

What love was it, she wondered, that Chuck Bass had? Was it the same love that had caused him to deny the perfect match that Lord Archibald represented, or caused her untold scandal when she thoughtlessly succumbed to passion and lost her innocent in Chuck Bass' bed, or perhaps allowed her to accept the growing seed inside of her that would have certainly ruined her chances for another match?

Still it must have been that same kind of love that flew from her lips when he took her to the chambers that they shared. For days he made her swear that she would remain with him, and within the four walls her cries erupted each time he drenched her. When she came, she prayed fervently that perhaps the curse was broken, the sin forgiven, and perhaps she could conceive a child.

It was days later, she knew not how many now as the days and nights bled into each other within their chambers, that they were called to greet visitors from court. She had been lying abed, bare naked as she now comfortably was beside her husband. Her inner thighs bore traces of the night they shared, her body still deliciously sore from being so full and stretched of him. Chuck's leg rested on her thigh, for always they went to bed wrapped around each other like tomorrow would find them torn asunder. At her side Chuck placed a kiss upon her shoulder and offered, "I shall speak to them. Lie and regain your strength," he told her. "You shall need it when I return."

He stood, reluctant to part from her. Chuck kissed behind her ear and she took the time to wrap her arms around his neck. When he tried to stand she hung from his neck and burst out laughing to hide her trepidation. "What if it were the king?"

He smiled, but it was a grim smile and she faulted his ability to lie to her. "You mustn't fear, Blair. The king would be loath to leave court, certainly he shall not leave it for Sussex."

And so she released him from her arms. Chuck left her on her own, within the walls of their chambers where no one ever were to reach her unless they were past him. She waited, like the patient partner she had not been before. Three years ago she had thought herself abandoned. When he did not return at once, she thought instead that her fears had materialized and the king had sent his men for the runaway earl.

She had not been one for instructions. After all, she had begun an affair with Chuck Bass when Anne had told her that wedding Lord Archibald was her best choice. And when the church told her to leave the place of death and sin that was Arundel Castle she had remained for a dying man and the promise of a birthright for her child. No, she was not one for instructions. Blair dressed quickly in her best, so she would appear before them ever the countess and she could manage to strike fear or respect in whoever had come to threaten her husband.

Blair made her way down the steps stone steps. As she decided where best to search for Chuck, she found instead to her surprise Lady Serena sitting alone, worrying her skirt.

"Serena," she said, calling her friend from court.

The lady on the seat stood up, and rushed towards her to give her an embrace. "Blair!"

"What do you in our castle, Serena?" Blair inquired. Had she any to do with Chuck's delay? And then, because she knew that Serena would not leave court so lightly, she fretted. "Why have you left the queen?"

"Daniel is come to speak to the earl, for the king demands his presence." And she had come with Daniel, Blair supposed, despite the scandal it would cause and the queen's great consternation. After all, the queen had often taught them to think in the most practical way how to better their lives and their station. Chuck Bass, son of the Earl of Arundel, did not meet Anne's high standards for her cousin. Daniel Humphrey was a paid scribbler. There was no way that the queen would have blessed the excursion. Serena grabbed Blair's hands. "The queen is in great trouble," Serena shared. "What Daniel had written to your husband is come to pass."

The queen was in trouble—danger, scandal, it mattered not. The world must stop for the queen, who had been with her at the start and end of Annie. She repeated, puzzled, "Daniel had written to my husband of this?"

"Weeks had passed and we did not hear from you," Serena said. "And now the king demands his presence." Serena's voice dropped and she gripped Blair's hand. "I fear the queen shall fall. We knew it once she lost the babe, a little prince they said."

Oh Anne. Her darling, sweet, ambitious cousin, brought down by the court to which she had wished to belong. Poor Anne and her little son. "Shall the king set her aside the way he had done Queen Catherine?" This was Jane's fault, that woman! She had toyed with the king's—Her thoughts were treacherous at best. She knew that Jane and the king dallied. But the king had courted Anne ever so sweetly and loyally, professed his love. He had not bedded Anne so easily as he bedded Jane.

"If only he would!" Serena exclaimed.

Blair felt the fear and the anger pump within her. She demanded, "Where are they?"

Serena pointed towards the far door, out of the keep. Blair's eyes narrowed. Secrets. Chuck kept secret from her this very thing and had taken the discussion out of her home to continue the secret. She stormed out the door. When she burst into them, Chuck looked up in surprise.

She did not need to demand an answer. Chuck offered it at once, "I did not wish to see you hurt."

Her mouth thinned and she glowered at him. She shook her head. "You lied to me."

Chuck walked part Master Humphrey and grasped her upper arm, pulled her up against his body. "I kept from you a hurtful truth. Therein lies a difference. Surely you can understand omission to keep a loved one from pain."

Only—she did not keep Annie completely from his for his benefit. She had kept the truth for her own. She answered the only way she could, "How dare you bring my daughter into this." Weak, self-serving, but her only way.

She saw the frustration spark in his eyes. "No. How dare I even speak or think of Annie, when you have claimed her only as yours? How dare I think I was part of her, since you so clearly take me for granted when it came to her?"

She pulled her arm from his hold. Quietly, she decided, "I am off to court."

She turned away and walked back to the castle. Blair heard the muttered curse, his heavy steps after her. "You have no business in politics, Blair!"he cried out. "Stay here. Let me attend to the king."

She turned back to him. "Because I am your wife and must stay in your home?" Her eyes narrowed. "You would rather I were barefoot and pregnant, awaiting your return?" She took a deep breath, cared not that Serena and Humphrey would learn of her awful secret. "I had done it before, Chuck. And you did not return!"

He stopped stock still where he was. He took a deep breath. It was her battle won, she thought. Her battle won because he would not dare defend that he abandoned her to her own hell. But for the very longest time she only thought of him, that she loved him, that what he had done in her hurt was not a crime against her. Yet hatred spewed from her mouth and her heart ached of pain she had once chalked to her loneliness and her sins. But the hatred raged within her when she looked at him now, as if she hated what he had done when she knew he had no choice.

She whispered when the realization came to her. She breathed, "Chuck, I hate you for what you had done to me."

He shook his head, his eyes dropped to the ring that glinted on her finger. "No. You are mad that I have neglected to tell you about the queen."

She shook her head. Calmly, she said, "I am mad that you neglected me."

"You love me," he said firmly, almost in accusation. He walked forward until he reached her. She did not struggle when he pulled her to his arms, tightly, almost crushing her body in his embrace. "This business in court… it is the queen's and the king's. Not ours." And then, he repeated, as if she had forgotten once more, "You love me."

Gently, she rested her hands over the arms that wrapped around her. "I shall ride back with Serena and Master Humphrey," she told him.

He buried his lips in her hair, spoke against her. "You told me that you were content to be away from court, as long as we were together. Here I am, Blair."

She blinked, dry-eyed. "Anne was there in the darkest of my life."

"Bringing you to England is not so large a debt that you should place yourself in harm's way."

"You shall never understand." Because he was not there. He had not experienced the agony, was not with her. He could wish it all he wanted, swear to her that the truth pained him. But he would never know as well as Anne. Try as he might, he would never know how it felt to have a child fade away from your arms.

She pulled away from him and walked out of the keep. Behind her she heard Serena and Master Humphrey stay him.

It brought her such relief, that silence that they bought her. It took time before he came after her. He stopped beside her on Jack's swing.

"Someday I shall build in place of this old swing a larger one, more beautiful," he said.

Without looking up at him, she said, "I love this swing." She looped an arm around the taut rope.

"I can give you a grander swing," he offered.

"Lord Jack had this built for me when I sat on the ground right there, by Annie's side, and would not rise. I did not ask for it, but one morning when I woke there was this swing," she said, lost in the memory. "Pretty and bright and new. It is simple because they had made it within a night's work. You cannot better my past, or what I had taken from it, Chuck. It was."

Uninvited, he came to sit with her. She leaned against the rope but he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to rest against him. "Forgive me," he said by way of apology. "Oft I forget myself to my temper. My father used to call it his bane."

Whatever they spoke of, she knew where the conversation would end. And life had so exhausted her that she just said, "I wish to return to court."

And his answer, simple, predictable. "I would rather you did not."

"We disagree. It is nothing new."

They had disagreed at the beginning of their marriage when he wished to dump gold into the orchards and she knew they did not need it. They disagreed when they met and she wished to be with him and he had known he was not prepared for a love like hers. In terms of battles they were at a draw. She had been right about the gold, and he correct about the love.

And she almost cried when he nuzzled her ear and whispered, "Why can you not stay?"

"Because," she told him gently, "were it not for Anne, I would stay in this place forever, right here, in this swing, looking at those flowers." But Anne had pulled her from the despair and urged her back to the castle, had her take part in life, opened the door of her court for the time when she was prepared to join.

He was an earl, and he had earned his gold enough to return undefeated to England by virtue of his tongue. "Do you understand, Blair, that should you go back to court you may well suffer for your connection to the queen?"

There were things she did not think of, did not need to consider, when someone she loved was in trouble, "Will I ever win you over, Chuck?"

"I will not change my mind," he said firmly.

"It cannot always be what you want."

"This time, I know better, Blair. I am keeping you from court for your own sake."

"Then let us talk of it tomorrow," she offered.

He stood and took her hand. When she gave it to him, he raised it to his lips. Blair watched as he closed his eyes and kissed her knuckles. And then, without looking at her, he asked, "Tell me you do not hate me for what I had done. Tell me you no longer hate that I abandoned you."

Her throat tightened when she remembered all that she had said to him. And yet, even at the sight of his pain, she told him, "I can tell you I love you still."

He breathed in relief, taking it to mean the same.

"Come, Blair. Let us sleep."

In the dead of the night, Chuck Bass woke to the cool breeze on his skin. His eyes opened and he saw the window, out to the night where the moon glowered full in the sky. He felt the singular sensation of softness on his belly. And then, warm, wet glory wrap around him. He sat up on the bed and saw his wife take him into her mouth. His fingers buried in her hair and he groaned her name long and loud. Her naked body silvered in the moonlight and he watched in fascination, and thrilled as she licked from the base of his shaft and up to the pearly come that had seeped from the head.

She lifted her head from his cock and smiled at him. "I woke you, my lord," she said. Chuck bit his lower lip when her hand wrapped around him and massage up and down, making him thick and long and eager. "Good. I wished to wake you."

She loosened her hold on him, but his manhood stood erect from her ministrations. She crawled over him and slanted her mouth over his. Her lips parted and he eagerly thrust his tongue inside. Blair sat on his thighs, and his manhood prodded her belly.

"I want you to love me," she said to him.

"I already do, more than you know," was his answer.

She rested her hands on his stomach as she pushed herself up. With one hand she guided him into her slit. He saw the concentration on her brow as she slowly sank on him. Slowly, excruciatingly, he entered her spasming body. He was all the way inside of her when her hands wrapped to his shoulders. Her nails buried in his skin as she held on tight.

They slithered together, naked bodies, thrusting against each other as they pushed and yielded to find release. He knew her tears when he felt the warm droplets on his chest. He felt the bite of her fingernails cutting his skin, but still he pushed her to the very edge until she broke—a million brilliant little pieces and descended gasping over him.

"Stay," he pleaded with her as he caught his breath. "Let us fill Arundel with dozens of you. Say that you will."

Her eyes fluttered closed as he watched. "I shall," she swore to him. And only then was he secure enough and allowed himself the same favor.

He woke, and the first thing he saw was the dressing robe lying on the floor. The sight of it was the most heartbreaking thing he had seen, and it was before he stood. Perhaps it was because the air was cool behind him, or that his leg was thrown over merely sheets. His heart sank before he knew, because he knew.

She had done to him the very thing he had done after their first night.

The parchment lay open by his head.

'I have done myself a favor, my lord, and headed to court before you can convince me with your words, you hands, your mouth. And I had done you a favor, my lord. After Annie, I am unable to conceive. The doctors spoke of my torn womb, as I had bled near death when I had my daughter. The chaplain tells me it is my punishment—I wedded you after your uncle passed, and it is my sin to bear. Take this to the king when you are able, and the truth shall grant you a divorce from me.

Once I had been afraid to lose Arundel. Not now. Now you shall see to her care because I have no doubt you love her.'

He threw the covers from his body and grabbed his pants, pulled over the trousers to cover his nakedness. Chuck heard the knock and barked his leave. Chuck rummaged through his trunk for tunic and looked up at Master Humphrey's entrance. "Humphrey!" he cried. He had at least thought her foolishness was tempered and she had taken the scholar with her. "For the love of—Had she gone to court by herself?"

She had gone insane. Completely and utterly. It was the only explanation for running away and thinking he would ask for the dissolution of the marriage. He would not put it past her to face the court by herself.

"Taken Lady Serena and the carriage, my lord."

Much help Serena could give her. Anne's two maids would just as likely weep before Henry than speak to the council or Cranmer and find a way to save themselves. She was going to get herself killed.

"The countess had clear gone out of her mind, Humphrey. Find me the fastest beast. Tarry not. Henry shall have what he has asked—Arundel back at his table."

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **Delay in posting this new part because I found myself suddenly working on two new plots. I guess this story really did its job.

**Part 10**

The hum of conversation in the king's council lulled at his arrival. Daniel Humphrey had spoken to him of the past weeks in court, and he was prepared to face the king and, even trickier, Thomas Cromwell. Anne, good old queen Anne, in the strength of her bearing and her stubborn stance on matters of the state, had turned Cromwell against her. And Chuck knew from all his father's stories that a displeased Cromwell was a dangerous Cromwell. Queen Anne made it all the more easier for the king to take control.

He needed to find Blair at once, hopefully before the plans of Cromwell took effect. He unfolded the parchment he had taken with him and read through the hastily scribbled words.

A divorce.

When had the possibility occurred to her? His wife had gone insane with the whispered foolishness of those who surrounded her. He must take heed and beware those who spoke to his wife from now on, and manage the seeds planted in her mind. In her loneliness these three years past it was evident she had tended to the seeds that had been sown.

"Did you know," he asked Daniel as they rested in their journey, sitting before the fire and breaking bread, "that the king's doctors thought her barren?"

Daniel looked up in surprise. "No, my lord. The queen must have stemmed the news well, for it would have rendered Lady Blair undesirable to the lords at court."

Undesirable. His Blair. What a preposterous thought.

"I am sorry to hear, my lord, that your wife cannot bear you sons."

Chuck nodded, for he could appreciate the sympathy of a man who could not possibly know the gravity of the news. After all, Daniel barely had property to speak of, let alone to ponder the legacy. Or the end of a name, the last in a line that dated back to the year of William the Conqueror.

"If you wish, Lord Bass, I have documents written on how the king was granted annulment from Queen Catherine." Daniel's voice dropped. "I am able to guide you on setting aside Lady Blair to find a fertile wife."

Chuck sat back in his seat and folded the letter. He slid the worn parchment into his pocket. He stared at the historian and said, in a manner cool and calm, "Let us you and I understand well, Master Humphrey, that my marriage to Lady Bass shall not be put before the church or the king for dissolution."

"The countess has given you leave, my lord," Daniel said in his confusion.

"I do not need her leave. I am Chuck Bass. If I wanted anything I would get it be it with the countess' permission or nay," he established firmly.

"Then why not set her aside and take your right to find a lady who shall bear you an heir?"

"I have no desire to dissolve my marriage."

"Lord Bass," Daniel said calmly, "even I understand why the countess feels the need to give you this leave." And understand he did. After all, despite Master Humphrey's base birth he had moved around the court for long enough to study the nobles. He had, in fact, turned into his livelihood this skill of observation and putting down his thoughts on paper. Needlessly enough, Daniel continued, "Without a child, all that your father had meant for you shall revert to the throne, for the king to give to whom he pleases. Are you prepared to lose your lands, my lord?"

Once he had challenged the loss of Arundel to his uncle, it was his father's legacy. Now Annie was forever tied to the land, his little lost daughter. "I have no wish to lose my land." Yet given what he had lost and what he stood to lose with Blair, he would rather salvage the remains of the only love he had ever known.

"When you return to court, my lord, you know that anything the king shall ask—"

Chuck's lips curved. "The king does not ask, Master Humphrey. That is why he is king." The king declared the best course was to wed him to his uncle's widow, and despite the anger and betrayal he had harbored against the woman who had taken over his dreams, the king's word was law. And he had not regretted the marriage for one moment. "Oft, I believe, despite our doubts the king truly knows what is best for his subjects."

Once the king saw him enter the chambers, Henry motioned to him. The king's age slowly crept into his face now, with the injury to his leg that had, by Daniel's accounts triggered the last miscarriage, the one that had lost Anne her son and possibly her life.

Before Chuck proceeded, Daniel cautioned him, "My lord, speak not of the princess."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. When Bartholomew built his name in Henry's court, he had built it both with the king and Queen Catherine. It had been a test for him to secure Henry's divorce, to know that he was truly loyal to the new queen—the 'prostitute,' the 'mistress,' the 'whore.' If anyone suffered through the shift in power, it would be the children. Princess Mary, now considered a bastard for the dissolution of the king's marriage to Queen Catherine, and Princess Elizabeth whom Chuck knew would soon suffer the same.

"Not a breath of the children, my lord, if you wish to be in his good graces."

Chuck walked past Cromwell and towards the king. Right before the king Chuck Bass bowed in deference. Henry grunted his reaction. The king took his goblet of wine and chugged down the spirit before turning back.

"Bass, come back to court finally after abandoning your sovereign." Chuck did not rise nor argue. He had seen far too many lives lost from simply debating with Henry Tudor. "I have you figured, my boy. You are a runner. What has made you run home this time, against my wishes?"

The words were kind, but Chuck could see in the king's eyes the distrust that one must fear when subject to Henry. His father's greatest skill, he often said, was his ability to stay unnoticed, always of service. So Chuck looked straight into the king's eyes. "I left for my wife, your grace," Chuck admitted. It was true. He knew then slowly that the queen would lose her grasp. She had become too powerful, too influential, too presumptuous. If it were only for his machinations Blair would not find herself in the middle, or anywhere close, to where the clash would erupt.

"Your wife," Henry repeated. "Anne's little cousin?"

Chuck's jaw tightened. "We were but newly wed, your grace. I found myself jealous of the time she spent on most pleasures of your court and wished all that time for me."

The king's brows arched. And then he guffawed. "These Howard women—your wife and mine—can spin men's heads. 'Tis true." Chuck's shoulders loosened. "You come panting for your bride the way Anne had me around her littlest finger."

"Aye, sir," Chuck responded. "I have become a man enslaved by his wife."

The king's laughter slowly faded and he asked, "Young Bass, I need you to swear to me your loyalty."

"As you had my father's, you have mine, majesty," Chuck swore.

"Above all other nobles," Henry added.

"Above all others," Chuck swore, and he knew that he had pledged in this battle to be on the king's side instead of Anne.

"Will you forgive your king, Lord Bass, for saddling you with a wife that cannot give you what you need? I knew, lad—it was my doctors who saw to her in Arundel and told me she would never bear children."

The king had been a brash, passionate man, who took power before he was prepared. Everything served to him on a silver platter that the Tudors took by force from York and Lancaster. His father had fought the war, paved the way for unity in England. The bride that was meant for his own brother had been handed to his upon Prince Arthur's death. Never once had he fought for anything, stood for anything, until he desired Anne Boleyn.

Winning Anne was fought upon one argument—taking his brother's widow to wife was a sin, and for that sin God would not give him a son. It was Henry's greatest fight, his greatest achievement. To the king it was the greatest burden to have a barren wife.

"Your grace," Chuck said, "there is nothing to forgive."

The king nodded towards his master secretary, and rose from his throne. Chuck saw the pain on his face as he walked on the leg. The king cursed under his breath. "This pain. This pain—my physicians tell me the leg has healed. Bloody idiots know nothing. I tell you, young Bass," he muttered, "no one knows our body more than ourselves."

And so the king left the chambers to the able hands of Thomas Cromwell. Cromwell walked towards Chuck and handed him wine, then discreetly led him towards an isolated seat in the chambers. Daniel Humphrey had spoken to him of the struggle between the queen and Cromwell.

"I wager you wish to learn where your wife had gone, Lord Bass."

Chuck licked his lips. When they arrived he had at once been required to appear before the king, and so he left instructions to Master Humphrey that once he was able to slip away he needed to search for Blair. The master secretary had much against the queen, and Chuck could not tell if his disdain extended to his wife.

"The countess had gone straight to the Tower. I must admit, I am moved by her loyalty to the queen."

His hand fisted. He had not known that the queen had been sent to the Tower. "Lord Cromwell," Chuck bit out, "have you charged my wife with a crime that the countess of Arundel would be subject to this humiliation?"

Cromwell shook his head. "My lord, the countess entered the Tower of her own accord and she is free to leave unless there are charges brought forward against her." The master secretary slid forward in his seat. "And this is where we have need of you." Chuck listened quietly, knowing this is where his wife's fate would lie. "We need you to speak the truth that we all know."

"The truth?" Chuck whispered.

"A truth that many men know but will be stronger from the earl of Arundel." He had expected to be asked. And truly, he almost thought he knew what the next words would be from Cromwell's mouth. "Lord Bass, we need you to claim that the queen has lain with men other than the king."

"I have been gone from court for three years. This is utter absurdity. Why should the kingdom believe a word I claim?" he challenged.

"It matters not," Cromwell replied. "The historian will write of it and so it shall be. From your mouth it shall be the truth." And then, "Will you help us, my lord?"

"What if I stay silent?" Chuck asked.

~o~o~o~

On May 12th, the earl of Arundel knew the answer to his question. He chose to remain silent, to the king's consternation. Chuck Bass sat at the back as the trial began in the Tower of London. Whether or not he came to support the kingdom's claims against the queen, Chuck knew the trial would move forward. But he had been denied access to his wife.

"If you cannot do your kingdom a favor, Lord Bass, why should the kingdom do you a favor?"

The only way to see his wife was to attend the queen's trial. And so there he sat waiting for the entry of the queen. Anne's maids followed close behind her. Chuck swallowed at the sight. For all the stories of the queen breaking down as she was carried to the Tower, he appreciated the regal nobility with which Anne Boleyn held herself up.

And they passed before him until it was that his wife slowly walked by. From his place Chuck took her hand and placed the folded letter in her hand.

She looked up in surprise, and Chuck said, "Did you truly believe I would not come for you?"

Blair looked down at the paper and said, "This is for you." It was the letter she had written in goodbye, his permission to remarry.

"It was unacceptable to me, countess. I fear you must redraft your plan," he answered.

The charade continued and soon sat Anne with her ladies front and center as the charges were read. Chuck listened to the travesty of the mock trial as the accusations were bandied about. Already the men charged with having lain with the queen had denied the charges save one, and that one the commoner who was free to be tortured in the Tower.

"The queen is charged therefore with adultery, having lain outside her marital bed wth the king's chief butler Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Weston, Sir William Brereton and Mark Smeaton. The queen is charged with the unholy sin of incest with her own brother the Lord Rochford in November at Whitehall and December in Eltham."

"Her maid the countess of Arundel, Lady Bass, is charged with high treason for her collusion—"

Chuck Bass rose to his feet. His heart thundered upon hearing the duke of Norfolk read the charges. He met Blair's fearful eyes from the distance and he willed himself not to stalk to the front of the session and pluck her away. Chuck stopped before Cromwell and demanded, "Is this what it means not to speak on your lies?"

"You are free to take the floor, my lord, to speak our truth and have a chance to speak your own," Cromwell advised.

"Then let me speak." He would not stand for this. Unlike many of those that stand accused, his wife did not have the clout from her line—her parents were ensconced in France and would take weeks to send for them. Her family could call upon the French court for a favor and bore little influence in London. He was the only succor she could have in England.

"You will give us the assistance we need, my lord."

Chuck took the stance before two thousand heads, and spoke to the principal lords of England. Before them he claimed, "On the night that you say the queen lay with Smeaton, and that my wife had stood before the door to hide this treason, know that my lady was far from whatever crime committed."

"The night in question was three years ago, my lord. You were but new to court and Lady Blair had only just arrived. How is it you can speak to this?"

"Because that night, my lords, Lady Blair was in my bed."

There was a low murmur of disapproval. He glanced towards his wife expecting the shame of the revelation on her face. Instead she held her head up.

"Three years ago, my lord. You are certain of this?"

"Yes," Chuck gritted out. "I have loved Lady Bass long before she was my wife."

He wondered if he imagined it, but he thought he saw her smile.

"If you love her as you say, then you may be lying to ensure her safe from these charges."

"You are right, my lord. I shall do it all for her, even against my better judgment. But I say to you, my lords, she was in my bed, innocent of this travesty."

"And the queen?"

Blair's eyes were liquid, fervent, as he spoke. Right then she put on his shoulders the great responsibility that he could save the queen. But he would break her heart then because he said, "The queen is hopeless in all this, and my wife is not." And then, as if he were a drowning man, he gasped out the story fed to him by the throne.

Blair's eyes fell to her clasped hands. He longed to reach for her, to hold her. Then she looked up at him such that it seemed to him that he had ripped her with his betrayal.

~o~o~o~

The queen and her ladies gathered in the small room before they were called back for the decision and the sentencing. Blair sat in the corner and fisted her hands. She shook her head, hoping denial would stem the flow of her tears. It did not. Instead she found herself sobbing in her anger. The queen had defended herself, answered each and every one of the ridiculous accusations.

"God, Anne," she cried, forgetting the honor of a title and using her cousin's name instead, "some of these incidents they have charged you were on days when you were heavy with Elizabeth!"

The queen settled into her seat. "Blair, I have hope that the lords listened to my defense. And if they did not, then it was my fate."

Blair looked towards Anne in panic. The queen reached her hand out and Blair rose and knelt before the queen. She held Anne's hand and kissed it. "Anne, I am ever shamed of what my husband has done to you."

Anne smiled sadly. "Between what your husband has done and what mine has, Blair, I fail to see Chuck's sin." And then, the queen pushed the lock of hair that had fallen from Blair's coif. "I abhorred Lord Bass as a choice for you," Anne admitted, laughing softly and Blair wondered where Anne found the strength to laugh under the circumstances. "Truly despised the thought of him landing a woman as special as my little cousin. I could not understand why you wanted him. And then he left you and I detested him even more. But today, no longer."

Blair allowed herself a small smile. "No longer?"

"Your husband's changed my mind. He did right, Blair. He can still save you; he cannot save me." And finally, with some distress, she said, "Neither can he save my sweet brother."

It was the saddest acceptance she had heard. They called for the queen and with her ladies in tow, Anne Boleyn stood before the principal lords and heard her very own uncle read to her the sentence. Serena held Blair's hand as they waited. The queen drew a deep breath and preserved her composure.

The queen was condemned first. Blair searched the crowd for her husband as the sentence was read. She saw him standing beside Cromwell and knew then what it had taken for the earl to ensure her safety. She watched Anne's face, stoic, calm, as the duke of Norfolk proclaimed that she would be burned or beheaded at the king's pleasure.

"I am prepared for death. My only regret is that these men, most loyal and innocent, are to die for me."

The queen was to return to the Tower to await her execution. Through the throng of nobles Chuck made his way to her. The guardsmen barred his way, and so he called to her as she remained beside the queen. He offered his hand to her, because she was free to leave and he would not have her spend another day in the Tower.

Voiceless, she answered, "No."

"Blair," he called.

"You turned your back on Anne, Chuck," she answered. "I cannot."

In the next days Blair knew she had chosen right. In those days when Anne insisted on her innocence, and heard one by one those who stood accused with her were executed, she maintained the levity of conversation with her maids. During the night Blair fell asleep while Anne prayed, and woke in the night to find the queen wracked with sobs. Blair rose from her bed and settled beside the queen.

"Sleep, Blair. It is enough to stay with me through this time."

Blair settled beside the queen in her bed and shook her head. "You stayed awake for Annie, held her until the end. I shall do the same for you."

Despite the queen's brave insistence that she did not need Blair, in the pitch darkness of the night she clung to her young cousin like a child again. "Mary—her children," Anne whispered of her sister, "have you sent word that she is not to come?"

Once Blair had thought Mary the prettier sister, until she grew to love Anne as deeply as she loved her own mother. "I have sent word that Mary is not to come, but she shall, Anne. She loves you deeply."

"The children then," Anne said of her nieces and nephews. "The children cannot see my execution. The king must order them away. He knows I loved those children so." And Blair knew at the very least she would tell the queen that the children were nowhere near the Tower.

They came for the queen a week later. It was early in the morning when Blair pulled open the door. She watched from the window as the queen received communion and she swore upon the Book that she was innocent. When Anne rose she extended her hands towards her ladies. "Come pray with me."

Blair shook her head and said, "You shall not die today, majesty. The king loved you."

"The king loves me. 'Tis true. Mr Kingston, the constable, was here while you slept, and he told me by the king's good grace he had commuted my sentence. I shall not die so painfully by burning, Blair. Indeed, he has ordered a swordsman come from St Omer to execute me swift and painless."

"Majesty, is this love?" Serena exclaimed.

The queen placed her elegant hands around her neck. "I have such a little neck. Can you imagine the awful mess some common axe would make?" And then the queen laughed merrily. "Indeed my husband loves me enough that he knows I shall be off put to know what would become of my neck under a rusty blade."

Again, the queen reached out her hand. "Come now, my darlings. Pray with me. They shall not kill me until the afternoon and we have much time."

Serena knelt with the queen, and fearfully she said, "Once you have gone, majesty, I fear I must be away from court."

To Blair's surprise, the queen, in all her teaching of ambition and taking what one deserved, agreed. "If you shall find yourself always coming back to your commoner, Lady Serena, best vanish into the country. I fear your love has no place in court."

And then she turned to Blair. "And you, ma cherie, I pity."

"My husband loves me, and he is of a good and noble blood," Blair answered. It was a pity that he was firmly on the side of the king in this, but compared to Serena perhaps she had this easier. After all, Master Humphrey would never compare to Lord Bass. And it was his misfortune that no matter what he became, the historian would never rise from his birth. In truth, Blair wondered why Daniel Humphrey still persisted in this affair. It was doomed from the start, after all.

"Lord Bass loves you," agreed Anne, "so much he has near destroyed himself to speak for you. He loves you and shall not wish to leave you."

"I gave him leave to divorce me, and still he remains." Was it not what they wanted? Was it not proof that Chuck loved her most of all? Her husband was far better than the king, whose wandering eye caught a prettier maid, nubile and fertile, yielding the way Anne never was.

"And such will be your destruction, both of you." Anne's voice lowered. "If I did not love Henry I would have stepped aside and left him when I could not give him a child. If he did not love me he would have abandoned me quickly when he bedded me. But we loved each other to a point when we tore each other down."

"We would never hurt each other." Even when they fought, even after their disagreements, Chuck Bass had never sought to hurt her.

"Never willingly," answered Anne. "He thinks he loves you enough to bear a childless life, Blair. But you shall see. His love shall turn into hatred quicker than the sword shall cut my neck. And he shall hate you more because he loves you and cannot ever leave you."

"I have no wish that he shall love me so much to hate me."

"In this world, Blair, that is the unfortunate luck of us who cannot bear a son. And that is the fate of those men who loves a wife that cannot give him what he needs—a legacy." The queen sighed. "Why shall I not die before noon, Blair? I had thought myself to be dead by this time and well past this pain in my heart."

Blair knew the pain. Paralyzing and strong, almost overpowering. The queen's words were of caution and even now she was immobilized by fear. When the queen was called to the end, Blair and Serena assisted her into a red petticoat—a jolly color, chosen by the queen herself because the king always loved her in rubies. Serena laid a loose dark grey gown of fur-trimmed damask, and Blair brought forward an ermine mantle. The queen drew in a deep breath and thanked her ladies.

"I shall be the loveliest headless queen in Tower Green this day," she said lightly. Anne took her long, dark hair and bound it up. Blair took off her own white coif and handed it to the queen. For once since she married Jack she would go out with her hair unbound down her back, as if she were unmarried.

From the Queen's House, they were led past the Tower Green, and for a moment Blair was overjoyed. Truly the king loved Anne and would give his pardon. And yet they turned towards the north of the White Tower and Blair gasped at the sight of the scaffold. The queen stood at the bottom step. Blair reached for the queen's skirt and found herself held back.

She looked up and saw her husband made his way to the front of the crowd. "Release me. Please."

"Enough, Blair."

"Anne!" cried Blair.

The queen turned to her and rested her gaze on Chuck. The serenity on Anne's face gave Blair pause. "Lord Bass," Anne said, "shall you and I do each other a favor?"

Chuck swallowed, then nodded. "Anything."

"I shall care for your daughter, if you ensure that mine is safe after I have gone."

Chuck released a breath, then swore, "It would be my honor, majesty, to ensure Princess Elizabeth is secure." It was seemingly impossible, this task, given the fate that had befallen the Boleyns. But the woman deserved some peace before the end.

Blair watched from the prison of Chuck's unyielding arms as the queen declared her innocence once more. "Where is the king?" Blair whispered. "Where is your king, Chuck, who had you spewing your lie?"

"I know not. Perhaps with Lady Jane," he answered. Perhaps in celebration; or perhaps deep in his cups for having ordered the death of the woman who once spurred his separation from the Church.

"You dare come for her after you had charged her!"

"I came for you; I spoke for you," he said quietly.

She was stiff as a board in his arms, and yet he buried his lips in her hair. She said, "You and I are not together, Chuck. Not in this."

"And I told you—this matter is the king's and the queen's. Not ours."

"Good Christian people, I am here to die. By the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it," the queen said from the scaffold. "I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord."

"I wish she would stop being so kind to him, would stop loving him. Does she not see—he loved her not to see her die like this?" Blair whispered.

Chuck's arms tightened around her. "I pray you stop speaking against the king. The queen is doing her best now that you and any other whom she loves shall not be left with a king bent on punishment."

She looked up at Chuck. "I cannot be punished more than I am now. What else can he take from me?" she demanded.

Blair turned to Anne, for her final farewell. The queen said, "I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul."

The queen knelt upright, whispering her last words of prayer. Blair moved to help her but Chuck held fast to her. Serena and some of the queen's ladies removed her jewels and her headdress. Blair wept when Serena tied a blindfold over Anne's beautiful eyes. The queen laid her head down on the block. The executioner raised his blade and for the queen's benefit, yelled, "Where is my sword?"

And then Blair found herself locked in a kiss, turned away from the scaffold, her wet cheeks cupped by her husband's hands. She heard the loud thud of the blade hitting, and another soft thump which she assumed was the head. She opened her eyes and saw the sorrowful darkness of Chuck's eyes before her own eyes closed and found herself falling limply in his arms.

He lifted his wife up in his arms, and ignored the cries and cheers that mixed with the disbelief. The queen of England was dead—the whore, the prostitute that London abhorred. Yet what erupted next was a cry of dismay against the king. Chuck minded not. This was the king's trial now, and the people would be the judge. All he knew was that his wife would not wake to the horror and be within the Tower walls.

"My lord!"

Chuck frowned at the sight of Dorota waving at him. He followed Dorota thinking that she had found his own waiting carriage. How Dorota managed to enter the Tower he knew not. And then, when Dorota opened the carriage door, he knew. Emblazoned on the side was the Archibald crest.

Lord Nathaniel peered out of the carriage and waved him inside.

Chuck hesitated. "I have my own," he said proudly.

"Come inside," Lord Nathaniel urged. "Your ride is missing, and you must take Lady Blair out of the sun."

Chuck climbed into the carriage and glowered at Dorota. "What is this?"

Nathaniel patted Dorota's leg, and then stated. "I have come at Lady Blair's own request, Lord Bass." He took the letter from his pocket and said quietly, "We have an arrangement. I have come to honor it, and you shall find I am doing you a favor."

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Little promo here - The next one is building up to be pretty interesting. Think Fouche, Talleyrand, Cadoudal, Napoleon, Reign of Terror, guillotines, royal exiles, spies… and classic Non Judging Breakfast Club…

AAN: Back to this story - Hope you saw the tiny clues in the earlier chaps that led up to this…

Thank you, as always, for reviewing.

**Part 11**

**May 1536**

Not until the next day did Chuck Bass answer the summons of the king. For a moment when he entered the chambers it struck him as odd the vision that the king presented. He did not know why, but he had expected a mourning man. Instead he found the king seated in his throne with Lady Jane Seymour seated beside him, a half-completed work of embroidery at her lap. With her hair in a bun at her nap, and her pale fingers tracing her needlework, she appeared the prim and proper virgin right by the king's side. She was every bit different from either Catherine or Anne, powerful, influential queens both, and Chuck wondered if the maddening obsession that the king had developed for this last woman did not in fact stem from the difference.

"Your grace," Chuck acknowledged quietly, his gaze still glued to the new woman at the king's side.

"It is Lady Jane, my lad," the king intoned. "Most lovely and innocent. I find myself drawn to her beauty." The king took the maid's slender hand in his and brushed the kiss on her fingers, as if he had not just murdered a wife the day before.

And so, despite the sudden revolt in his gut, he bowed at his waist to give his respect to the maid that he had known warmed Henry's bed well into the king's marriage and during Anne's childbed confinement.

"Lady Jane," Chuck greeted.

The king nodded towards the somber attire that Chuck had chosen for the day. "You have much displeased me through these last weeks, Bass," the king began. It was not as if Chuck had expected that it would all be forgotten. Henry was not a king to forget transgressions. The man was ruled by his heart. His father knew it from the very first day that the second son took the throne. "You had allowed your cock to lead your brain." Chuck swallowed. The king chuckled. "But so have I. I hear, Bass, that Lady Blair has abandoned you for Lord Archibald."

His heart clenched. Dispassionately, he said to the king, "She was despicable. I gave her my heart, majesty."

It was then that Jane loosed her hold on her embroidery. Her delicate hands fluttered to her chest, and she said gently, "When we were in the queen's service—"

"She was no queen, Jane," Henry said firmly. "Our marriage was declared null."

"In Anne's service," Jane insisted quietly, "your lady wife had always seemed enamored of you. I cannot believe she loved you not."

"Jane, you know what happens to those who meddle in my affairs." The king's voice was stern, and would brook no argument. When Jane apologized, flushed and concerned, Henry leaned over to her and kissed her cheek. "We all have our place."

The king then turned to Chuck and declared, "I have saddled you with an infertile adulterer." He turned to his men beside him, and Chuck's eyes narrowed when Cromwell stepped forward. "Find me Cranmer."

"Lord, the archbishop is in mourning and shall—"

The king continued, as if he did not hear, "Declare Lord Bass' marriage void."

Cromwell looked up at Chuck. "Non-consummation?"

A hundred nights in Arundel—in the lighthouse, the gardens, their chambers. He had poured into her like every time was the very last, and he had filled her like his life was all for her. "It was consummated," he rasped.

It was apparent to him that the king was displeased, and the displeasure was towards Cromwell's question. "Does it matter any that the marriage was consummated? For certain it was consummated." The king barked, "The divorce is done. Adultery, abandonment, find a way, Thomas. I know you can."

After all, Chuck thought, Thomas Cromwell had put together the complicated and most original accusation against a reigning queen—found evidence where there was none. This divorce would be nothing to him.

"I am not certain, majesty, that a divorce is required," Chuck said softly. The day he knew he was going to lose her, when she climbed into Lord Archibald's carriage in the dead of the night and looked up at the window where he waited and watched, Chuck considered that a legal separation was likely. And for the life of him he knew—saw it in her eyes—that she wanted that very thing. "The countess has abandoned me, after all, and shall not make her way home to Arundel, cannot argue claim to mine."

The king grunted. "You need a divorce, lad, that there is never doubt of inheritance. After all, I shall find you a young, fertile wife who shall give you sons aplenty. There should be a child in Arundel. You cannot rest until there is a son to inherit it all."

"You would have me remarry, sir?"

"I shall have a selection of the richest, noblest young ladies in court for you by the morrow," the king told him. "We cannot have Arundel mix with common blood." He considered Jane sitting by his side. "There is a maid in service with you, rich, blonde, spent time with Lady Blair. She might make a match with Lord Bass. What is her name, Jane?"

Asked directly, Jane was quick to consider and offer, "Lady Serena, my lord. Van der Woodsen."

"Serena," the king repeated. "Even the name rolls like honey. What think you, Chuck?"

So did Blair. Her name would be upon his tongue in the loneliest of nights, he was quite certain.

"I beg your pardon, your grace. I have no desire for Lady Serena." In truth, even if he were not aware of the affair between the maid and the court historian he would not touch her—could not touch her. Not when he still smelled his wife's skin when he closed his eyes and breathed.

"Pity, but understandable. The lady is far too thin to seem like she shall bear many healthy sons." The king confessed to his secondary agenda. "I shall rather have her married off and pregnant in your country castle than all about the court, reminding us all of the rather dark incidents of these past years."

It seemed the king wanted to rid his court of the memories of Anne. Sooner or later he would succeed. "Then, your grace, perhaps Lady Serena is better off in Lady Mary's household."

"To care for the girl?" the king asked, unwilling to call his daughter by her name while the fate of the mother was yet fresh in his mind.

"Aye, majesty. I would be honored to take Lady Serena to Lady Mary's household to care for the princess."

The king regarded Chuck with sharp eyes. "I think it is a good enough decision to send Lady Serena to care for Elizabeth." The girl was only two, and now was just about an orphan for having lost her mother and having a father who had declared her a bastard.

Chuck bowed. "I shall prepare for departure."

"No!" Henry decided. "There are a dozen men qualified for a menial task as that. You, Bass, shall stay in court. I have been far too free with your absence in my court. You shall earn your place in council, lad. Now," he said, jerking his head towards the rest of the lords in chambers, "sit you down. Let us see this brain that Bartholomew had been so proud to declare had taken after his fiscal competency."

Chuck made his way towards the table.

**October 1536**

It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. The pallets were thin and her back ached even from lying down. When she rose she was surrounded by dirt and mud. It was the dreariest place she had ever been. The door of the small hut opened and she turned her head and saw Lord Archibald step inside with a tin plate of pottage and rye bread. He placed the plate before her and muttered, "I searched for better food but it is next to impossible."

It seemed rote now. She extended her hand and Lord Archibald took it and pulled her up. She accepted the food and bit into the dry bread, almost choked when she attempted to swallow. Still, she bit off more and took care in chewing it. The heavy, hard food was an effort to eat, but she did. "This is fine, my lord. I am grateful."

"It is not," he decided. "When I agreed to take you with me I truly thought we would be in the mansion in York."

But they were not. Instead they were camped outside of Lincolnshire, away from the authorities, gathered together with more people surrounding them. The courtier in Lord Archibald had vanished and before her stood Nathaniel, his face half covered in stubble and his golden hair now flopped over his forehead. The gussied costume he wore in court was no more.

"You have been pulled into this outside of our plan."

Nathaniel settled onto the corner of the pallet. Blair took his hand and squeezed it. "We have been together some time now and you must understand that this was for the best," she assured him.

"Is it?" Nathaniel asked. He looked down at the rolled parchment in his hand. "The king has ordered Brandon to break the rebellion."

Charles Brandon, the duke of Suffolk, the princess' widower and the king's very close friend. Brandon was efficient, and she was certain that if he so wished the duke could crush the entire rebellion with the might of the kingdom in his arm. "We are gathered peacefully in this protest," she said. "Surely the duke shall see this." It was wishful thinking, but the strain in Lord Archibald's shoulders was apparent. She did not wish to burden him more.

Nathaniel nodded. After all, he had heard what he wished to hear. "How is he?" he asked softly.

At the question, her lips curved. "Tell me." He so enjoyed the sight, the feel of it. She took his hand and led it to her belly. The child inside of her took it upon itself to kick and swim at the attention. She winced.

"Does it hurt you?" Lord Archibald asked. "When he is so restless, does it hurt?"

She shook her head laughingly and confessed, "It is the most pleasant feeling in the world." She was so full, heavy. Blair was no countess here, and at her size she needed to borrow clothes from farmer's wives, from the gathered old dresses in the parishes. But she was fruitful, and she was to have a child.

"I swore I would give you a home—and I have given you a family, thirty five thousand large," he told her.

"I am grateful for it." She wondered now how her husband fared, in the court of Henry. He was skilled enough to make himself irreplaceable, she knew. Then again, Anne had always believed that to the king she was the final choice. No one could predict the unpredictable Tudor king. "Until now I do not know if our presence here is fair."

Lord Archibald repeated to her the very claim he had when they left court. "We cannot have a supreme ruler. You know this now as well as I. Give all this power to one man and he would decay." After all, she had to believe that once upon a time the king had been a good and noble man. Her cousin would not have loved him if he were not. "Henry does not hold our fates, Blair."

"He is the king," she whispered.

"Of this land. Not of heaven," Lord Archibald reminded her. After what had happened to his family the same time that Anne had perished, she could not blame his singe-minded fury.

She closed her eyes and heard Anne's whispered prayer, almost a chant as she said the words over and over before the sword struck her. Lord Jesu, take her soul.

"It was because of the church's excesses, its ultimate power that divided the kingdom, that Anne turned to reformation."

"You would not have a child if you remained in that faith," Lord Archibald reminded her. She still remembered that morning after she agreed to join this protest against the king's supremacy over the church, when she joined the Catholic rebels in this insurgency against Henry and Cromwell's excesses. It was the morning when she woke and found her sickness, realized her menses had not visited her since Arundel. "When you took this chance, when you accepted this sacrifice for the true faith—God had forgiven your transgressions and cleansed you of the sin." And he had willed life back in her body.

"Charles Brandon," she whispered. Blair looked up at Lord Archibald. "We are thirty five thousand against an army of soldiers," she said. "Faith or not, we shall all die under Brandon's sword."

"We can fight."

She was going to have a child. Even Anne knew not to fight against indubitable might. She shook her head. Sometimes it was smarter to know when to accept defeat. "We have nothing—no weapons."

"Faith," he insisted.

Her hand closed around his wrist. She pulled it away from her belly. "Faith did not save your cousin." He winced at the reminder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No," he breathed. "You are right."

She nodded. "The lives of these people are on your shoulders. There is no shame in giving up—not if it shall save our lives. The throne is stronger. Let us fight when we are just as strong."

**May 1536**

She wished she could spend all the days of her life now weeping for her cousin. But Anne now lay in an unmarked grave within the Tower walls and she swore she would not suffer the same fate. Everyone knew—even the ignorant masses who had called her cousin a whore, a prostitute—that Cromwell and the king weaved a tapestry of lies and caused Anne's fall from grace. Henry wanted to set aside Anne for the younger and possibly more fertile Jane and Cromwell—Cromwell lined his pockets with gold from the monasteries, which Anne would have none of.

"I shall return to court," she decided.

Nathaniel waited in the small chambers with Dorota, watching the conversation between Chuck and Blair. He held in his hand a rolled parchment.

"No," Chuck said firmly. "You saw what they can do, Blair. They accused you with a preposterous charge!"

"There is no escape from this king. We go back to court, Chuck, or Henry will extend his arm to Arundel."

"Arundel is far from here," Chuck argued.

"There is nowhere far enough from the king," Nathaniel said quietly. He held up the parchment in his hand. "Cromwell abolished the monasteries in York, and my cousin had kept the monastery on Vanderbilt land to help the wretched at home. Cromwell ruined my cousin—he was the golden child, the man who wished for nothing more than to feed the poor in York. And now my cousin is dead after receiving a missive that he had displeased the throne. Tripp had never set foot in court, Bass. Tell me then—do you think Arundel is far enough from Henry?"

Blair glanced up towards Nathaniel in horror. Anne had been part of the decision to dissolve the monasteries, but she insisted it was to contain the horrors within, the travesties committed in the name of the Lord. Never had she thought that the simple decision could yield such consequences.

"Do you truly believe there is still a place for me in this kingdom, Chuck?"

And her husband, blessed was his heart, said firmly, "The king shall not touch you. I shall never allow it."

Her gaze lowered. In many aspects, her husband, as strong as he was and as powerful as he was-as much of a man as he was whenever they were together—was a young boy yet. "Your father was sent to Rome at the king's pleasure," she reminded him. "What if you were sent away? What happens to me? Shall I defend myself against trumped up charges that Cromwell makes?"

"You are the countess of Arundel!" he said in disbelief.

"And Anne was the queen of England!" she argued.

"You are my wife," he gritted out.

"I have no son," she reminded him, "I am nothing!"

Perhaps it was then that Chuck realized their place in this game. They were nothing. His voice was weak when he said, "I love you."

Declaration such as this had its own place. Now they needed to ensure their survival. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "Lord Archibald has a plan. I had always hesitated for Anne."

Lord Archibald explained, "I am amassing support for the Catholic Church, against this business with Henry and Cromwell. We are now thousands of people strong, and my Yorkist fortress is strong enough to ward away the king."

Chuck's lips curled. "You are talking treason." He would never have figured Lord Archibald to have this insurgency in the back of his head. Then again, many of those who tittered around the king's court had dubious loyalty. It was always the case when one claimed supremacy. In fact, Chuck began to respect the man he had only thought was a well-born sloth.

"Treason," Lord Archibald considered. "I am talking about protecting your wife against a king who would rather wipe the court clean of remnants of Anne Boleyn!"

His heart fractured when she stepped towards Lord Archiald. "Chuck, we are talking about ensuring that everything that is yours remains yours, that you are untouched by the course of the Boleyns—Anne is dead, and so is George," she recounted painfully. "You are married to me. If we do this, you shall keep the peerage and your lands, just as you wanted."

He would not have it. He walked towards her until they were toe to toe. "At my wife's expense?" he said in disbelief. He hated that Archibald was witness to this, but he had no choice.

"It is the only way. You have to keep Arundel, Chuck. It's Annie's home."

He took her hands and kissed them. "What do you want me to say?"

Lord Archibald kept his voice firm and steady when he informed him, "The king knows I am affiliated with the northern rebellion. He shall learn of my flight from court as I am under Cromwell's watch. The king also sought my marriage to Lady Blair once to ensure my fealty to his court. We shall claim that your wife has run away with me."

Chuck looked at Blair. Her heart clenched at the hurt look in his eyes.

She said softly, "It shall not be difficult to have the king believe that I broke the sanctity of our marriage. After all, my blood runs the same as Anne's. You were a pawn, a victim. You knew nothing of what shall happen." She took his hand and said the words she never wished she needed to say. "I betrayed you, and you detest me. You are most loyal to the Crown, Chuck. He shall want to do his best by you."

Nathaniel added, "When we are away no matter how loyal you may seem Cromwell shall keep you under watch. You must not write to us, nor shall we send you missives. For all purposes you and Lady Blair are no more. This is the only way we can keep suspicion away from you."

Chuck swallowed. "Did you plan all this, Archibald?"

"No. She did."

Chuck nodded. "Blair, this is masterful," he conceded.

Her tears rained on her cheeks. "If it is for your sake, my lord, I am more than just a childless woman. I am a Howard."

"No," he answered. "You are a Bass." He tightened his arms around her, and she sobbed at the sensation of her body against his. "I love you, countess," he breathed into her ear.

"I love you," she answered, knowing this could possibly be the last time.

"I shall come for you," he swore, his lips wet in the openmouthed way he kissed her cheek. "I shall serve him until he comes to trust everything that I am, and I shall come for you."

In the night, when the carriage rolled out, Blair looked up at the window at the final sight of her husband watching her depart. She raised a hand, her small farewell. He did not move, merely kept his eye on her until the carriage vanished in the horizon. When she could no longer see him, she settled back in her seat and met Lord Archibald's eyes. It was then that she felt the tears fill her eyes, started to choke and drown in the emotions inside of her. She sobbed in her seat, huge, wracking sobs of mourning.

Lord Archibald did not pat her back, nor hush her tears. He allowed her to cry noisily within the carriage. It was the best comforting he had done for her.

In the morning she woke to the dizzying roiling of the carriage. She called for the carriage to halt. When it did, Blair stumbled out and collapsed on her hands and knees out onto the grassy roadside, and heaved and purged herself of the awful, awful grief.

Her hand fluttered to her belly.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 12**

The knock was discreet, recognizable now. Chuck Bass stood from his cold bed and opened the door and as expected Daniel Humphrey stood there. He stepped aside and allowed the scholar to step inside. He asked, "What news have you of the north, Humphrey?"

"No news of the uprising today, my lord," answered Humphrey in a cautious note. By now he had realized how it was that the earl wanted to wake to news of the north, of that black abyss where Nathaniel had taken Lord Bass' wife and disappeared. Before Chuck could ask, he handed a rolled missive to him and said, "Lord Cromwell has asked that I give you this."

Chuck frowned and took the parchment. He glanced at the wax and saw the king's seal. Chuck broke the seal and unfurled the declaration. The first script he recognized was his name and that of Blair. He looked up at Humphrey and demanded, "What is this?"

"Your divorce, my lord."

Chuck's brows drew together. "I did not ask for a divorce." The king be damned, and he would say it aloud were it not for his fear that the king had spies everywhere.

The scholar nodded. He continued, "The king, or perhaps Lord Cromwell, shall speak to you of your choices. I believe they have listed the wealthiest daughters in court who shall make a good match for you."

In response, Chuck took the decree and walked past Daniel Humphrey and towards the king's quarters. When he arrived, the guards blocked his path. "I wish to speak with the king."

"My lord, the king is otherwise engaged."

"How is he engaged when council has not begun?"

"Lord Bass," Humphrey said quietly behind him, "do you think it wise to demand anything from the king's household?"

"Who is inside?" Chuck asked again.

"Lord Cromwell, my lord," answered the guard. Before Chuck could ask for entrance once more, the guard added, "The queen, Lady Elizabeth and Lady Mary."

The door opened and Cromwell stepped outside. From the doorway Chuck spied Henry leaning forward as he spoke to a red-headed child about as tall as her father's knee. He drew out a sharp breath when the face that stared back at him was that of the king, yet the eyes were so much like Anne. "Elizabeth," he whispered of the young child. He had sworn to Anne he would see to Elizabeth's care, but after having lost Blair he had little desire apart from gaining the king's respect. The girl looked hale, even when Queen Jane took her in her arms. "The princess—how does she?" he asked quietly.

Behind him Daniel Humphrey spoke, for truly he was the one who knew every piece of news in the kingdom. "Healthy. A hardy child. She has asked but once for her mother and when told Queen Anne would not see her again she had not asked again."

"She knows her mother is dead," Chuck acknowledged. "What pity for one so young."

Lady Mary stepped forward and curtsied to her father, then turned her head and spied Chuck Bass at the doorway. She bowed deeply and Chuck saw Henry dismiss his eldest. Lady Mary kissed her sister on the top of her head and walked towards the doorway.

"Lord Cromwell," she greeted in dismissal. The man bowed and made his way to the opposite side of the corridor. Lady Mary turned to Chuck and greeted him with all the grace that she carried in her aristocratic bloodline. "Lord Arundel," she said to Chuck. When she extended her hand and waited for Chuck to kiss it, she held with it the dignity of the Spanish kings and queens. Chuck bowed and kissed her hand. Even outside of the line to the Crown she was every bit the royal princess. "I knew your father," she pronounced, and Chuck did not think it a ridiculous thought. His father had been a proud supporter of the pope as was her mother. "She served us well."

"He loved your mother," Chuck admitted.

Lady Mary nodded and added, "Perhaps it is her love for our Faith that caused his mishap when he was ordered to the pope to disgrace my mother."

Chuck shook his head. He had no wish to discuss religion, or how matters of the church could take away a man's life. "How do you, Lady Mary?"

"I abhorred my disinheritance and the state of affairs when that whore took my mother's rightful place," she said candidly. She eyed Chuck from head to toe. "I hear you had been commanded into marriage with the whore's cousin."

"I was," was his neutral answer.

"I also hear that she has cuckolded you like Anne did my father."

Chuck closed his eyes. When he opened them he told the princess, "Lies, both of them."

Lady Mary's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "And yet you agreed to this divorce?"

"You know as well as I, Lady Mary, that once the king decides on a divorce then a divorce shall happen."

The corner of Mary's lips curved upward, and Chuck wondered if it was not inappropriate to discuss some matters with levity. "Lose your husband or lose your head," she said lightly, almost teasingly. He supposed if one was a forgotten princess, declared bastard by her own father, levity was the only way to save face.

"I know that your father loved my mother, but he was ever loyal to the king. And you, Lord Bass? What of you?" Lady Mary asked. Chuck did not answer, because any answer would either displease the king, or the princess, or whoever listened at that moment. Lady Mary stepped closer to Chuck and said quietly, "There are those loyal to my mother and to the true church, and they gather now in York to rally for the faith."

Chuck tightened his jaw and refused to speak a word of what he knew.

"His majesty, my father, seeks to stop the rebellion."

"If the rebellion seeks to question the supreme power of the king, the king has the right to quell it," he intoned.

Lady Mary's eyes narrowed. "The Vanderbilt clan is one of the most loyal. On the ground there are tens of thousands of people who gather. Lord Bass, the insurgency has broken."

He swallowed. Nathaniel had spoken to him of the same. He knew the plan. It seemed that all was happening according to the plan. Except, his wife was there. "Good."

"The king sent word of Suffolk and tens of thousands hastily dispersed."

"Word of Brandon and they dispersed. It must not be as fearsome as we thought."

The princess liked her lips, then whispered, "They think to gather again in a fortnight, in York, on Vanderbilt's lands."

Chuck tested, "Why do you tell me this, Lady Mary? Are you not worried I would speak of this knowledge to the king?"

The princess merely smiled and shook her head. Then she said, "Your wife comes along well and healthy, despite the hard life on the ground. This business of rebellion is taxing on one, especially with such delicate constitution."

"My wife—you know about my wife."

"I know many things about the rebellion," the princess said cheerfully. "There is some benefit from being a forgotten child. Oft the kingdom forgets to learn about me. Is it not odd then, that those that Catherine and Anne left behind find themselves now on the same side outside of the king's good graces. Pity you still are firmly lodged there."

Chuck grabbed the princess' arm. When Lady Mary gasped in shock, Chuck released his grip and apologized. "Tell me about my wife," he requested.

The door to the king's chambers opened. Lady Mary stepped away from the earl. Henry stepped out of the room and eyed Chuck Bass. Lady Mary curtsied, then said to Chuck, "I cannot tell you more but this, my lord. Make your way to her. Post haste."

"The king—"

"The king has the whole of court, and she only has you. Make your way to her and undo your divorce or you shall regret it," Lady Mary advised. "Anything you have to do, do it."

"The king does not trust me." He cleared his throat. "I threw my lot with Anne."

Lady Mary's eyes narrowed. "I heard you spoke against her in trial." And she stated clearly, "This is why I am here speaking of this to you."

Chuck swallowed. "I remember it differently. I spoke for Blair."

"And the whore?" Lady Mary pushed.

"I refused to speak for Anne when a word would have placed my wife at risk."

Lady Mary held Chuck's gaze, reading him it seemed. And then she nodded.

"Bass!" the king called. "What in bloody hell do you at my doorstep in an ungodly hour?"

Chuck stepped forward and raised the missive. "This divorce, your grace," he answered.

"Ah." Henry nodded. "You shall accept it and you shall thank me."

Lady Mary brushed past behind him as she made her way towards the doorway. She extended her hand. Lady Elizabeth took her sister's hand and curtsied formally to both Chuck and her father. One woman had before refused to divorce the king. Queen Catherine lived then in shame and seclusion until her death. The other woman was offered and divorce and took it, only to end up on the block.

"You are a free man, Bass. I have a ward, a most delightful girl of sixteen who spends her days with a needle and thread and spins the most outrageous little frocks." Henry described the girl he would have his new favorite wed. "Common blood, but her father married a wealthy, handsome widow who gave her a rather large sum for her dowry. She has no mind for politics, as is a young wife's place."

Chuck spied Queen Jane, the king's most favored, working on a kerchief in her corner. Quiet, retiring, yielding as it were. Jane looked up and Chuck caught the wise eyes, knew the queen hid more than the king could suspect.

"The girl is young yet, with much promise to provide you a son."

And then from her perch the queen looked up and offered, "Think, my lord, of an infant son with golden curls who shall come riding or hunting with you."

The king's chest swelled at the thought. He had not hidden from anyone the very thing he desired the most.

"Can you see him, my lord?" the queen asked.

Chuck had thought himself a fine man, and all fine men dreamed of lads to bear their name and title. "No," he answered in wonder. Because truly, he could very possibly die without a child.

"I have asked Lord Cromwell to draft your marriage documents to ensure we have young Jenny's inheritance locked for Arundel."

"Majesty, I have no wish for another wife," Chuck said, "so soon after my first." He confessed, "In truth I long for mine."

Chuck expected the king's anger. Instead, he was surprised that the king moved forward and quietly said, "I shall send for young Jenny then, that you might see if she pleases you." And then, "She will haunt your dreams and you shall wake aching for her. She is wicked and had put some witch's spell on your person." And Chuck wondered if the king did not speak from waking nightmares out of his guilt for what he had done to Anne. "And you shall wonder if she were not the only one you could love."

He almost nodded in agreement. Then the king continued, "She is not. You shall wed this heiress and you shall thank your sovereign. You shall yet have a fertile wife and a son to bear your name."

There was no heaven, no hell in the Tudor court.

"I thank you, your grace," Chuck pronounced. Heavens, the court truly made one into a man and twisted your balls until you fell on your knees for mercy. "I am," he managed, "grateful for your generosity."

At that, Henry nodded in pleasure. "Anything for Bartholomew's son." He motioned towards Chuck and when Chuck walked towards him Henry continued, "Join us for tennis this noontime, Bass. I wish to discuss a few matters with you."

At the invitation, reserved only for Henry's most trusted, Chuck knew his acquiescence had bought him this new place in court.

~o~o~o~

Chuck swung the sheep gut racket hard, sending the ball to the wall. It bounced off to the other end of the large covered court. Chuck glanced at the king, who leaned forward with his elbows on his knees as he watched intently. Chuck's sweaty hair fell over his eyes. He shook it free and saw the king's look of satisfaction when Chuck's opponent lunged and missed the ball.

"Dalgaard!" the king barked, and ended in a chuckle. "How feels it when you are playing with men who have no need f your father?"

The earl knew what he needed now, and he pursued it with single-minded obsession.

There was a smattering of applause. The Belgian ambassador's son tossed his racket to the side and shook his head. Then the king pulled himself up to his feet and gave a series of sound claps. The king motioned over to him and Chuck made his way towards his sovereign.

"Your father trained you well, lad," the king said to him.

"Indeed he did, your grace," he answered. Bartholomew taught him Henry's favorite game the day Chuck learned to ride a horse. Like riding, playing tennis was a necessity in court that Bartholomew sought to equip his son. It was a way to the king's good graces, his father had told him. Seeing the way Henry now regarded him Chuck knew his father told the truth.

"The old earl did have a way of smashing these balls to the wall," Brandon commented as he turned the leather ball over and over in his hands.

Chuck noted that the duke was fully attired for long travel. He nodded towards his boots. "It appears, my lord, that you are on your way away."

"Aye. Business for the king." Charles Brandon smirked. "Perhaps with age, lad, you shall go on your own assignments for the crown."

Chuck noted how Cromwell stood in attention at the conversation. He leaned by Henry's ear.

"I have trained myself my entire life to defeat the best sportsman in England," Chuck said, deferring to the king. "While the king heals his leg I must go to the second best." He extended the racket towards Charles Brandon. "My lord duke, will you fulfill a young boy's dream? It would please me to have a game with you."

"Bass!" called the duke in response, effectively cutting Cromwell's quiet words, "I would love nothing better than to show you a silver tongue does not a sportsman make. Alas, I am to leave at the king's behest."

By now a handful of the council members had gathered around. Chuck looked to the king, knowing that he had appealed to every sense of what Henry considered noble in the challenge. "Majesty."

Brandon shook his head, "My mission requires that I leave post haste."

Chuck contained his relief when the king declared, "Come, Brandon. How long shall it take to squash the young Bass?" Henry's voice almost verged on jolly despite the foul mood that often descended on him when he watched younger men play the sport he used to excel at. "Come teach this young man a thing or two of what I have taught you countless times. The north shall wait."

The north. Like his own guiding star, he needed a reason, a legitimate reason to come up north. He had not made a mistake in believing that if it was any serious matter, the king would tap on Brandon for his response. "York?" he asked.

"York to clean up scum," answered the duke. He took off his cape and handed it to his squire.

"Your grace," Cromwell said quietly. "There is no need to discuss the mission here."

Chuck turned a cool gaze to Cromwell, remembered well the demand to him on the queen's trial. "Why, Cromwell, if I did not know better I would say you trusted me not." Cromwell narrowed his eyes, but Brandon burst into quiet laughter. "Now," Chuck said to the duke, "how does a man join this trip? Tennis holds only little interest for me. I find myself searching for another pastime."

"You are bored, and you wish to join my journey?"

"Aye."

"It is real man's work, Bass," warned the duke.

Cromwell said quietly, "Real man's work. It is more than rutting and sowing your seed on innocent young women fresh in court."

The reference to Blair was like a sock in is gut. He felt a tick in his eye. Chuck lunged at him, but Brandon caught his arm. "Let it pass," the duke advised quietly. "Cromwell has the king's ear. Your temper cannot be your fall, not when you have already come far."

The assurance was enough. Coming from the duke, it might as well have come from Henry. Chuck considered that he had succeeded in what he sought in staying. "Perhaps, as my father had repeatedly said, it is time that I am a man of the court."

Brandon nodded and patted his back, then turned to Henry. "If the earl of Arundel can show us how much of a man he has become then I may use him up north, your grace."

The king squinted as he considered Chuck. Chuck pulled himself up as tall as he could. "You think you are man enough to aid Brandon?"

"I was man enough before I returned to court, majesty. Everyone only needed to see it."

The king guffawed, then waved his hand. "Then defeat the duke. If you are man enough to do so, you are man enough to shepherd wayward peasants in York."

At that, Chuck leaned to pick up the leather ball. With a smirk on his face, he looked down hard on the ball and thanked his father for the hours upon hours learning a game that Chuck had not thought any pleasure at all.

Someday, Bartholomew had told him, you shall see that this shall be your most vital skill.

Today, father, was that day.

Chuck bounced the ball hard on the ground and up it sprang with a loud thud. When it fell back down with speed Chuck swung hard with the racket and hit it hard towards the wall. The duke caught it as it bounced and hit it harder. Chuck caught the ball and half-twisted his body to hit it back, far above the duke's head and bounced on the back wall. The ball bounced off to the side wall, on the opposite side of the duke. When the duke lunged and fell at hi side, Chuck grunted it pleasure at the win.

He threw down his racket, then looked towards the king. "It seems, majesty, that I shall not be in your council these next days."

The king nodded and with a large grin he said, "And here your new bride is about to arrive. If she comes here and you are not, she might just take in the pleasant sight of all these other young gentlemen in court."

"I shall endeavor that my heart not be so broken, majesty," Chuck called to the king.

"Saddle your horse, Bass," said Brandon from the ground. "And none of the trappings. Leave the carriage and the chests."

Chuck walked over to the duke and held out his hand. Brandon accepted the assistance and allowed Chuck to pull him up. "The carriage was for my wife, my lord. I assure you, I can travel in much the way you do."

Brandon nodded curtly. "Where your wife is, a change of garment is a luxury."

Chuck stopped. His grasp tightened around the duke's hand. "Do you know?"

The duke answered, "Did you truly think a man as young as you could honestly beat the duke of Suffolk in tennis, Bass?"

"Then why?" Chuck asked, puzzled. Lady Mary had know enough to convince him it was time he left the comfort of court and retrieve Blair. But Lady Mary was the one staunch support of the faith and what the rebels wanted. If the duke knew—and he could not put it past Charles Brandon to know everything on the ground in a rebellion he was tasked to stem—then it might Lord Archibald, despite his own conviction, could not be equipped to keep her safe. More importantly, if the duke knew, then why would he allow Chuck's company up north?

"I have been where you are—wrapped around the finger of a woman that the king did not wish for me," Brandon reminded him. "I shall allow you your little fantasy and then you shall outgrow her."

Much luck, thought Chuck. One night with Blair and she had been in his dreams for three years, wherever in the world he roamed. Now he was a husband and a father to their lost little girl.

"Is that how it was for you?" asked Chuck.

"That is another lifetime, Bass," the duke responded. "This kingdom can offer you all that you ever want in life. Then," he said, "you shall regret nothing of what it took to bring you here."

Chuck walked towards his opponent and called for him. "Damien," he said.

The young man turned around and nodded at Chuck. Damien Dalgaard looked back towards the nobles, far enough away that they would not be heard. "The purse must be worth that humiliation, Bass," the ambassador's son warned. "You know that I am undefeated in my home kingdom. I fear you have soundly destroyed my reputation."

The earl nodded, then handed a purse of gold to the other man. "I told you when we met in Belgium that I shall always be fair. It is but fortunate that you have joined your father here."

"I am certain other lords would allow you to trounce on them before the king for a purse this heavy," answered Damien as he peered inside and saw the gold.

"I needed to challenge the duke of Suffolk, and defeating the undefeatable—with a reputation such as yours—is the only way I could intrigue the king enough to order Brandon to a game."

Damien nodded in satisfaction. "Had I played at my very best, you could still have possibly beaten me."

"I abhor long physical activities except for one," teased Chuck.

Damien extended a hand. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Chuck shook his head. "We are not done," he said. "How would you like to make a purse ten times that amount?"

The ambassador's son smirked. "You have another lie you wish for me to play?"

"If you play your cards right, you might come into a purse a thousand times larger."

"This is not a tennis game then," Damien surmised.

"This is a challenge to seduce a young girl," Chuck informed Damien. "If you convince her to wed you, then you shall come into an inheritance no one in Belgium shall ever deem you unfit being just a second son."

"And what shall you get out of this?" Damien asked. "I know you, Bass, and there is always something for you in these little deals."

Chuck shrugged. "Perhaps this time, I merely wish to reward you for your good work."

"Bass, the reason I trust you is that I always know what you have to lose."

So Chuck told Damien, "I have no wish to marry the girl, as the king would have me do."

Damien nodded. "Considering the element of danger that has come in by defying Henry's wishes, I shall need twice the amount you have initially offered."

Chuck laughed. "I expected nothing less from you." He shook Damien's hand. "You shall do it then?"

"Bloodstained sheets shall be flying from the castle rafters within the week that your bride arrives."

"Humiliation is unnecessary," Chuck instructed. "But I shall need for the king to know, and therefore break what engagement he had made for me."

"He shall find a new bride, you know, after this girl," Damien countered.

"Then I shall make you a rich man," Chuck answered.

He looked back towards the king and the duke and saw Brandon wave him over. Chuck nodded and turned back towards them.

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **So who would have thought that there would be such immediate responses to an update to a fic that had been dormant for at least a couple of years? This was always the most responsive fandom in the years I've written in ffnet. So, in advance, thank you for your continued interest in this story. Also, if you are familiar with the history being tackled here, I am doing a highly fictionalized version of the Pilgrimage of Grace to fit with the timelines I need, so things are moving faster than they did in history.

Nate is loosely based on a real player in Tudor history. Plus points if anyone can figure out who it is.

**Part 13**

"Are we now sufficiently strong, Blair?"

The night was cool that November, and gratefully Blair accepted the thick fur blanket that Nathaniel placed upon her shoulders. She looked out into the darkening horizon where a mass approached the grand ancestral castle to which they had retreated. For the past weeks she had deemed themselves safe behind the massive walls, no longer camped out in the streets of Lincolnshire in such unorganized mess.

What fortune it was, she had gathered. Merely days after their retreat into York, Suffolk had arrived in Lincolnshire to find the numbers had been dispersed.

And so here in York they gathered.

Blair turned around and looked up at the man before her now, so different than who he had been three years ago when first she met him and they had rejected each other's troth for reasons they themselves kept close to their own hearts. She looked at this man now, no longer a boy, and knew deep inside of her had this been the man that Anne had offered to her long before she would have truly loved him and willingly pledged herself to him.

"Captain, you are strong in number and a fearsome force against the king," she answered.

The grim curve of his lips was a response she had expected. Almost reluctantly he had had to accept that he was the leader of the forty thousand strong pilgrimage gathered in Yorkshire, all forty thousand of which had pledged an oath to him. And like the miracle that was their gathering slowly they had amassed the weapons and determination that Blair had said was lacking in Lincolnshire.

"Suffolk has come," she told him.

Nathaniel looked over her head and saw the approach of the men on horseback, then nodded his head. "From Lincoln to York. They shall chase us to the end of the earth."

The king's arm had been so far reaching that even in Arundel she and Chuck had not been safe. What more the short distance to travel from London or Lincoln. "As long as you pose the miniscule threat against Henry, there is no corner of England that is far enough to hide," she told him.

Henry was far too much of a threat that the only way she could think to hide what was most important to her was to cloak him in deception, and safely hide him under the king's nose.

She noticed the shift in Nathaniel's stance and turned around to face the window once more. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of an army behind that was far larger than what she had thought to see in her lifetime. "Mother of God," she muttered, realizing that Henry had set upon them his mighty royal army far beyond what Suffolk could amass.

Nathaniel's hands lay heavy on her shoulders, comforting her briefly. The child in her belly moved, a reaction perhaps to the sudden rapid beat of her heart, or perhaps the child merely wished to comfort her with its presence. Either way, all of a sudden her mind speedily assessed the entire situation that lay before her.

She would not perish in battle tonight. Neither her child nor herself would fall at Henry's hands. Just as she had planned once, in a few months or years Chuck Bass would know there was an heir to Arundel born of his own blood, and Henry was not the king that would take away her right to spend the rest of her life as Chuck Bass' wife.

Before them the gathering clouds thickened in the sky. Blair watched as the heavens darkened impossibly quickly, and the roar of thunder surrounded them. And then, suddenly the air was thick and blurred with downpour so heavy that down below the water began gathering and rising. She threw off the blanket from her shoulders and despite the heaviness of her belly Blair quickly descended down the steps and called out instructions below to gather as many of the pilgrims into the castle.

In the kitchens Blair had the servants prepare meals to be carried out into the courtyard for those who could not gather into the fort, and she made quick work of sending off bands to the monasteries that remained, ensuring there would be sufficient rations should the rain not stop.

When she returned to the chambers above, Nathaniel was gone. She peered out through the thick rainfall and could not make out the figures that approached the castle. She called down the sight of Nathaniel's page, and sent someone to ride out and determine if there was anyone approaching still.

"Have you seen Lord Archibald?"

"Out in the chapel, my lady," the boy called back to her.

She picked up the heavy dark cloak to protect herself from the rain.

Blair turned back down and made her way across the courtyard. She pushed open the heavy doors and looked inside to find the chapel full with pilgrims huddled within sharing food in the dark of the night. The few murmured greeting to her, to which she nodded in acknowledgment. Several chose not to look up at her, and Blair did not mind it. Upon her arrival in Lincoln it was clear to her that she would not win the people. None of the commoners would truly know how very passionately Anne had fought for the monasteries, not when the king and the rest of the church merely chose to paint Anne the harlot Protestant that had edged down good Catholic queen Mary in the king's affection and the consort's throne.

As long as the people who called Nathaniel captain, and swore to honor and follow him, thought she was full with Nathaniel's child, she would survive.

Blair crossed the pews until she could make her way down the steps that led to the tombs under the chapel. The waters did not rise underneath, and she was not surprised to find Nathaniel standing still beside the heavy memorial tombstone that marked where Tripp Vanderbilt lay.

Tonight he found himself at the very bottom of a staircase that Tripp had once tried to climb for the people of York, a staircase that failed Tripp Vanderbilt, one that caused him to be killed in dishonor yet spurred even more the North to its stark realization that England could not continue in its decay.

Blair assessed the hunched shoulders that were atypical of the handsome aristocratic bearing that Nathaniel was once whispered for in the circles of the ladies at court. She could not spare a moment of pity while Suffolk and who knew who else marched armed towards the estate.

"I shall not ask if you are prepared, Nathaniel," she told him. "The king's men come towards us and whether you are ready to receive them or not, I know you will not fail these people who believe in you to save their living and their faith."

Nathaniel looked down at the marble figure lying on the stone slab, whose carved features resembled his cousin to a degree that connected him to the vibrant man that Nathaniel once knew. He released a breath then shook his head. Then he turned to Blair. "Near four years ago when we first met I had not in my wildest imagination thought I would lead a coup against my king."

"Four years ago we were children, Nathaniel. Now we have grown." When he turned back to the marble memorial, Blair's hand rested upon her distended belly. She walked up to him and laid a hand on his back. "Truly, how much you have changed to a better man. The Lord Archibald who had broken off betrothal to me would not have stood before many and spoke for their rights to worship by their own faith."

Nathaniel reached for her free hand and tightened his hold. Without looking back at her, he said, "You regard me too highly, countess. I am surrounded by the faithful, yet even now I know not how I should approach the king."

"Perhaps I am still too full of anger," she confessed, "but I would that you treat the king as he would treat you, with force and deceit for that is who Henry is. Take him down if necessary."

"How many times, my lady, am I to tell you not to speak against the king for your own safety?"

Blair gasped at the sound of that all too familiar voice. She whirled around and found herself staring back at the handsome features of her own husband. "Chuck," she breathed. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, gloriously dripping wet from the downpour. Blair made a move towards him, itching to throw her arms around him and draw his palm to her belly where their child even now was awake and alert.

He raised a finger to his lips, and seeming to understand his silent warning Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her fast against his side.

It was then that she noticed the men that emerged from the shadows. Blair scanned the faces behind Chuck, nodded curtly when she saw them. "Suffolk," she said, not in surprise but in acknowledgment. It stood to reason having been the one dispatched to Lincolnshire that he would make his way to York as well. "Shrewsbury," she said when she recognized George Talbot. And then, to her shock, the last man stepped into the light. "Uncle Tom," Blair said in greeting to the Duke of Norfolk.

"Blair, I had not suspected you would be harbored with these traitors. You were always the girl who chose to do what was right."

"When have I done what was right, uncle—when I was dispatched to hide away in the country when I swelled with Arundel's bastard—" She flinched at the word itself, so awful and ill-fitting it was to use to refer to her darling Annie. "—or when I slept in the Tower awaiting the day that the queen would be beheaded after a court that you presided over found her guilty based on lies?"

And then Chuck's voice, low and smooth like she remembered all their nights abed in Arundel, continued, "Or was it when the countess fled post Anne's death to the North with her lover?"

Blair felt the way that Nathaniel's hand squeezed her upper arm in silent support. Despite being all too knowledgeable that she had hatched the plan for the throne to believe that her marriage had fallen apart this way, Chuck's words still stung because his hatred of her marriage to Jack was still fresh in her mind. How recently it was that they had discovered how much they loved each other, that this challenge was far too close to home.

"You cannot understand, Blair," Norfolk said. "But know that what seeds I have sown in service to the king shall in the future be reaped by your children."

"Let not my children benefit from the blood of Anne Boleyn," was her swift answer, "for I shall raise them with more conscience than what you seem to have, uncle."

Nathaniel stepped forward, blocking her from view. "Have you come to arrest me then, yours graces? Please let me know for which charge it will be, as these people around me have merely gathered in pilgrimage. You may notice, not one of us has raised a weapon against you and yours."

She could still feel Chuck's gaze burning into her. Blair lifted her gaze so she could meet his, perhaps without words to convey how deeply she had missed him.

"Archibald, we have come to invite you to present your demands that we may put this nonsense to rest. Will you join us in London and speak for the North?" Chuck asked.

"I have not enough fingers to count the number of good men and women who have fallen in London for much less than what you would accuse Lord Archibald." Blair stepped forward into full view, then realized that her heavy cloak hid all evidence of her heaviness from the men in front of her. In the months they had been apart, she could not allow Chuck to leave without truly seeing his family. She folded her arms across her chest, drawing the cloak against her body and leaving no doubt at the sight of the swollen belly. "I would that my lords promise safe passage to London and back for Lord Archibald, for he has much to live for."

And the sight of the expressions that warred on Chuck Bass' face—the utter shock and the elation which he quickly fought to hide—was enough to make the lonely, difficult months truly worth it.

"Safe passage it is," Norfolk promised.

"Then please await us in your camp and then we shall ride to London," Nathaniel offered.

And Thomas Howard, shrewd as Anne and Blair, more suspicious than both combined, said plainly, "And have the captain of this rebellion escape from right under our noses? I did not live so long on this earth to be so easily fooled."

"Setting aside that Nathaniel has no plans to abandon all his followers camped within his own home, uncle, we will not have it in our hands should some accident befall the king's beloved warlords within the confines of York Castle."

It was Brandon that spoke now, Suffolk who seemed to have spent much time in silence just reading her. He seemed to be the one closest to Chuck in the way they stood, and even for that Blair placed a small amount of comfort. "Before you continue so, Lady Blair, I agree to retreat but leave in our place some eyes and ears. Lord Arundel shall stay. Bass, it is your neck should Archibald be gone by the morrow."

With the threat hanging over their hands the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and the Earl of Shrewsbury left the grounds. Mere moments had passed until Nathaniel turned to Chuck and Blair, distant in person. "Bass, we can talk about these machinations come morning," he began. When he was certain that he was not heard, Nathaniel turned to the chapel proper and closed the heavy doors behind him.

And only then, when they were secure in their privacy, did Blair lower her gaze and slowly pulled the embellished rope that held her cloak close. She then dropped the cloak to reveal her state of fullness, then raised her eyes to meet his. Only briefly could he relish the joy on his face, because mere seconds later he was before her, cupping her face in his leather-gloved hands, pushing his lips on hers. She choked back a cry at the warmth touching her mouth, having lived in the coldness of a single bed so long.

And she abhorred it absolutely, but her body reacted in much the same way it did as the coach drove away from London and Chuck Bass those months ago. Blair felt the sobs as they made their way from her gut to her chest to her throat and out of her mouth. Too long she had kept her sorrow silent inside her as Nathaniel rose to become the captain of the pilgrimage, albeit reluctantly, and she took it upon herself to be the strength behind the uncertain front.

Blair clutched her husband's coat and pulled him tight to her, buried her face into his chest. It was a small moment to allow for weakness, and would not last long, but she needed to be weak for a moment. Only when her husband was around.

"Chuck, I have longed for you—how much you do not know."

And then he answered her, just as she had dreamed, "Every tear on your cheeks and every ache in your heart I know like a friend." And then, finally, the warmth of his palm laid on her gown, over her belly, so easily felt against the coolness of the air around her and the fact that she had shucked corsets long ago when she started to show. "And I see while you were away you have created another miracle for my surprise."

His gentle, lighter tone belied the emotions she could see in his eyes, and Blair swore she saw tears gathered in them. And so Blair nodded and held fast to his hand, "Arundel shall have a Bass heir yet."

At the words, alarm crossed Chuck's face. "A priest, Blair. I need a priest." When confusion drew her brows together, Chuck explained, "You look almost to term, and we need to marry to ensure our child's place."

"We are married," she responded, while dread slowly crawled down her spine. "There is no priest tonight, Chuck. Nathaniel had sent back all to the bigger abbeys and parishes to stand ground against Henry's plans to burn the religious houses to the ground." And then after a pause, she asked, "Are we married, Chuck?"

"Henry has dissolved our marriage."

Blair gathered her gown and kirtle in her arms and rushed out, throwing open the large heavy doors in her haste. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and she crossed the courtyard bare-headed now while Chuck followed close at her heels. When she entered the main keep Blair asked for Nathaniel.

Before she raced to the dining hall where she had been told Nathaniel had gathered those who led the groups that stood behind him, Chuck took her arm and leaned to her ear, "Slow yourself, countess." She blinked away her tears, not for the loss of the title, but the affection with which he used the name. If she spent her entire life a pauper on the run, and merely relished in that empty title, she would die happy. "You are heavy with the next earl or lady of Arundel, divorced or not by the king's decree. I would marry you a thousand times more but should we fail that, I assure you no mortal man will disinherit the son of Chuck and Blair. Etch it on my tombstone if you will."

And then she turned to him with brilliant eyes full of tears. "Swear."

She closed her eyes when he bent and placed a kiss on her shoulder. "I swear."

And even though she was Nathaniel Archibald's in York, Blair could not keep herself from the moment, resting her forehead and his. "There is time enough for this after the king grants us the demands from the rising," she whispered.

"There is not enough time in the world to love you, countess."

Her lips curved at his words. And then Blair walked towards the dining hall with him by her side. When she opened the doors, it was to the strong, firm voice from all corners as they added their demands to the list being put together by the scribe.

Nathaniel nodded to Blair and Chuck at their entrance, and asked again, "Is all agreed then?"

"Captain," one raised, "you cannot think to continue with Arundel in the room."

"Bass is here to ensure I do not escape. It stands to reason that he would be present where I am," Nathaniel returned. "What are we afraid of, that he would know the very demands we shall ask the king to read either way?"

And then Nathaniel returned to the task at hand, while Blair and Chuck stood against the wall watching the way that Nathaniel managed the crowd of men. "Tell me, Blair," he whispered, "will you willingly leave York tonight if I can find you a coach to take you to Arundel?"

Her own choice. And their own home. Blair turned to Chuck wide-eyed. "And you, my lord?"

Chuck nodded towards the long table where Nathaniel met with the men. "I need to see this through if you and I are to ever have a chance at a peaceful life in Henry's reign."

"I am too heavy—one moon or two and your child will come." Blair took his hand and placed it on her belly, covered it with both of hers. "After Annie, I would rather take all precaution and wait out the moons here in York."

"I am loathe to leave you here."

"Safe passage," Blair reminded him. "Norfolk promised safe passage for Nathaniel to serve the demands to the king. Is there reason to believe there would still be violence, Chuck?"

Her child moved inside her, under his palm, and Chuck turned to her in amazement. "What a hale and hearty child we have, countess." At her answering smile, he dropped a kiss on the corner of her lips, grateful that they were surrounded by men only focused on Nathaniel. "I hope to heaven there is no violence. Enough blood has been spilled on matters of faith. But I trust your uncle as far as I can throw him, Blair. If he could preside over a court that would find his own niece and nephew guilty, I know not what destruction he can manage with a young noble spurred by passion for his faith and vengeance over a fallen cousin."

"Keep Nathaniel safe then," she said, "when you return to London. And then perhaps after this service you can make your way to me."

"Watch the birth of our child," he told her. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "This time I shall be with you the way I could not be before." And then he grinned, "If need be I shall drag the archbishop along with me. When once he married us against our will, this time it would be the other way around and he could wed us while kicking and screaming."

Blair laughed softly, but it was enough levity that the sober men around Nathaniel's table turned to her in disapproval. She raised her hand and bowed her head briefly in apology.

Nathaniel dismissed the men around him, and turned to his scribe to draft a list of the twenty four demands on a clean scroll that he would take to the king. When the men had left, Nathaniel extended a hand to Chuck in welcome, and Chuck shook his head then pulled on the arm to embrace Nathaniel fully. He placed a kiss on Nathaniel's cheek. "What is a handshake, brother, for a man who saved my wife?"

At that Nathaniel then turned to Blair. "You were not always unpleasant company, Blair." And then to Chuck, he said, "More often she challenged me until I took the wheel, giving me the most important role of my existence."

"To London then," Chuck told him. "Blair remains here in York, to rest before the child arrives. Before that day I wish to return and we be wed. In truth I do not want a hasty vow made on your childbed." Nathaniel turned to Chuck in confusion, and from his doublet Chuck produced a parchment that he had not even shown Blair, then handed it to Nathaniel. "See what the king's unlimited power has wrought. This is the type of authority you face, Archibald."

"It will be an honor to represent the north to the king," Nathaniel assured them. He read the document and then nodded and returned the same to Chuck. "The demands are being drafted as we speak. I am grateful to have been chosen to serve the kingdom by being the voice of England in Henry's court."

Blair paused and reached for Nathaniel's hand. "Nathaniel, you are the leader of this rising. If need arose, will you put your cause before the king?"

"My cause is the king's cause. Perhaps he does not know it yet." Nathaniel looked towards the doorway. "I gladly serve Henry, love him, trust him well. I told you, Blair, that Henry is not the king of heaven, but is the king of England. I remain his loyal subject by asking him to hear the voice of York."

Blair watched as Nathaniel left the dining hall to prepare for their travels on the morrow. She felt Chuck's arm wrapped around her shoulder and she turned in his arms so that she pressed up against him. "I fear for Lord Archibald."

"Blair, did you think he would transform the pilgrims into an army?"

"For the right cause, I would pitch battle against Norfolk, march to London and siege Henry's castles. For Arundel or for you, I would capture the king and execute him."

But they both knew that most part of it was wishful thinking, brought about by the freshness of Anne's demise and the forced dissolution of their marriage. One day they would retire into a life when Henry did not have as much control over their lives as he now did.

"Then our child has saved me from losing my wife to Tower Green," Chuck said plainly. He looked down at her, and brushed the stray dark curls from her forehead. "Take care of yourself and the child, and I will take care of Nathaniel for playing his part in keeping you from Henry these past months."

Blair retired to her chambers and pulled Chuck along with her. On that stolen night, for the first time in so long, she laid abed with her husband wrapped around her. Deep into the dark night they remained awake, palms resting on the swell of her belly while her lips pressed against the pulse point in the hollow of his throat.

The sky and her chambers were still dark when she awoke to the noise at her doors. Blair reluctantly pulled herself out of her husband's—Chuck's warm embrace. Bearing the heavy weight of her pregnancy, Blair walked barefoot to the door and pulled it open to find Lord Archibald already in his riding gear. Her heart sank in the realization that Chuck was now to leave.

"We shall meet you in the chapel, if you please," Nathaniel told her.

Blair nodded, then made her way back to the bed and shook Chuck awake. He opened his eyes blearily and smiled at the sight of her. He pulled her to the bed and relished a few moments together, kissing her on the lips, filling himself with the sensation of her in his arms for the long trip back to London.

It was the first time that he would observe her morning ablutions since they parted in Arundel. Blair blushed the first time she stood before him merely in her chemise while large with their child. Chuck walked over to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, and he ran his hands over the swell of her belly.

"I cannot wait for the day this child runs across the orchards back home, Blair, or climbs the steps of the lighthouse holding on to my hand."

She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "He shall love Arundel as much as I have learned to love that land."

"He?"

"I know not how I know, but I do. We shall have a son."

He helped her into a simple gown, worked with her to pull on the separate sleeves and the bodice. She chose a modest deep blue gown, then waited for him to lay a cloak lined with sable fur across her shoulders.

Laying her hand on his proffered arm, they crossed the courtyard and made their way to the chapel. Blair stopped at the entrance when she saw Nathaniel kneeling before a priest. Her hold on Chuck's arm tightened as she watched the priest make the sign of the cross on various parts of Nathaniel's body.

"Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piisimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum," the priest prayed as he used the oil to make crosses on Nathaniel's eyelids, "audtiotum," his ears, "odoratum," his nose, "gustum et locutionem," his mouth, "tactum," his hands, "gressum deliquisti," his feet.

Blair swallowed at the sight, the words fast reminding her of the last night of Anne's life. It was yet another of the people she cared for that had to prepare for death so bravely in the face of the king. Before she realized it she was wiping tears from her cheeks. She and Chuck walked forward and stopped before Nathaniel and the priest.

"I have asked the archbishop of York to leave Pontefract for the morning to prepare me for negotiations with the king."

Blair held her tongue, because raised Protestant or not, she knew the words to the last rites that were just given to Nathaniel.

"Most of all, I could not leave knowing that the legitimacy of your heir relies on how soon I can complete negotiations successfully with the king. At the same time if you agree I wish for the archbishop to wed you."

Blair sobbed joyously and threw her arms around Nathaniel. Chuck shook Nathaniel's hand vigorously. And so they stood in the now empty chapel, having been vacated as Nathaniel took his own sacrament, with Nathaniel as their sole witness and the archbishop recently traveled from the Pontefract holding with other rebels, and quietly exchanged their vows.

It was far from the grandiose wedding where the king and the queen watched the archbishop of Canterbury, with an orchestra recently woken from their beds. The chapel was small and austere now, with abandoned clothes and boots left behind from the pilgrims that sought refuge from the rain that past night. Gone were the audience of the lords and ladies of the court, but Blair's heart swelled knowing that her child was there when she took her vows. Truly, this Catholic wedding was not that different in its words than the one she had in the reformed church.

As she swore the same vows, consented to the same promises, to the same man and the same God, Blair wondered briefly why it was there was so much blood spilled then in North.

But this morning she was reaffirming her love to her husband, and showing God how utterly grateful she was to be given another chance to spend the rest of her life with Chuck Bass—no matter that an earthly king would insist to tear them apart.

tbc

* words in Latin are Catholic Last Rites


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** I found myself initially finding it difficult to even start this chapter because I was scribbling away at my Plantagenet inspired historical. But I finally forbid myself from working on it until this was finished. The ending was a bit eerier than the ending of the other historicals, but this was to me the most fitting way to end. I hope you would think so too.

**Part 14**

One day soon he would arrive triumphant back home, and save for trips every few years to the French court that had adopted Blair and her Boleyn cousins there would be no reason ever to step out of the borders of Arundel. Where today his beloved castle was dark in disrepair, with the death of its lords and the mismanagement that bled its coffers to the very scraped bottom, Chuck Bass would take Arundel back to its very wealthiest best, so grand that it should come close to being the home that Blair and their little miracle would deserve.

He walked side by side with Lord Nathaniel Archibald, on the way to be received by the king. He studied the somber face of the man, who to his side clutched the demands of the Northern regions, knew he was looking at a doomed man and wondered how very innocent Nathaniel could be if he truly thought that Henry would read through the demands and grant him every one of them, and he could return back home to York bearing the good news.

As if the man could hear his very thoughts, Nathaniel turned to Chuck with a small curve of his lips, his eyes defeated yet resolute. "What other way do you see this ending, Bass?" Nathaniel asked him.

And Chuck knew the surprise registered on his expression, to know that the very last Vanderbilt approached this with a clear mind. "I am Chuck Bass," he answered with a faint trace of self-deprecation. "Did you not hear, Archibald? I am a coward."

Nathaniel nodded and stifled a grin. "The coward son that ran off to the continent after bedding the queen's cousin. Son of the coward who failed to secure his grace's divorce. Nephew of the coward who retreated into a corner of England to die after draining his young bride's accounts."

"Some other lifetime we would have been the very tightest of allies, Archibald."

Nathaniel hung his head briefly, paused in his stride. He looked towards Chuck, then nodded. "I believe it so."

"I would have been gone long before, and not taken the cloak of a dead cousin to speak for the North," Chuck told Nathaniel, and he hoped the man would recognize the admiration in his voice. "You must forgive me, but I shall not hear your side lest I be swayed. I need to cower now and put back together my family."

"Tis not cowardice, my lord, but self-preservation. This is not your yoke to bear."

At the end of the hall, Chuck saw the king's men gathered to receive Nathaniel Archibald. Chuck saw from afar the seated king, who nodded to him, pleased at his achievement. He had brought to the king the leader of the rebellion and Chuck bowed to the king in acknowledgment.

Nathaniel was flanked almost immediately by lord of Henry's Privy Council, and both Suffolk and Norfolk walked with Nathaniel to the king. Chuck remained behind, observing for the first time the flurry around him of a busy court. He turned around and imagined Blair fitting right into the court, but could not come up with a picture other than his wife in her smock sitting on the creaky old swing, pregnant and smiling up at him in his mother's garden.

By God, he needed to be home and soon.

"My lord Arundel!" he heard a strange yet familiar voice call.

Chuck turned towards the quiet call, and was surprised that it had come from the Lady Mary. The young woman waved him to her, and even when removed from succession one could so easily see that her nobility had not wavered, nor had her bearing of one that would be queen. He walked towards her and bowed briefly, with enough respect that he could show her the courtesy she required.

"My Lady Mary, what a surprise to see you in court."

The young woman smiled to him, then reached for his hand. "My stepmother had taken up my cause, my lord. By the grace of God I am welcome again in my father's court. I have as well humbly submitted to my father and accepted him as the head of the Church."

Yet it was he whom Mary approached, who was witness to her clear lines of communication with the rebels in the north. "Take care, Lady Mary," was all he could say.

From behind her skirts Chuck noticed a more modestly dressed toddler with a shock of bright red hair. The eager eyes of the child brightened at the sight of him. "Lady Bess," he greeted and bowed his head. Without another thought he knelt before the child and drank in the sight, so infrequently he saw her, so desperately he had failed the one vow he made to Anne. "How do you do, princess?" he asked her.

"My sister and I fare better with the new queen, my lord," Lady Mary offered.

A lie, perchance, at least with regard to Elizabeth. But the child seemed hale and healthy, and in those last moments of Anne's life he thought that a healthy child far from the misfortune that ran through the Boleyn blood would have made the queen happy.

Lady Elizabeth wandered from her sister, and Chuck frowned at the sight until he noticed a maid following closely behind the toddler. He pulled himself up once again to face Lady Mary.

"How fares your wife, my lord?" Chuck noticed that the queen had approached now, Jane Seymour, the maid that once Blair had cursed for sleeping with Henry behind her pregnant cousin's back. "You may speak in front of the queen, Lord Arundel."

"Really, you are asking of the pilgrimage then," Chuck told Lady Mary, "for I know no reason for the queen to be burdened with my wife's welfare. My countess is Anne Boleyn's bosom cousin, after all."

"Pray, my lord, that we should forget yesterday that we may move forward to a brighter tomorrow for England," Jane offered to him. "I want nothing but peace."

As he had told Nathaniel, the moment this was over, he would return home and live the rest of his life in the country. There was no need to ask about the betrothal that took place before Anne Boleyn's blood was even dried on the block, nor about the marriage that transpired before news of the queen's execution even reached the north.

Instead he told the two the reason for his presence at court. "Lord Archibald confers with the king now, in personal negotiations bearing the petitions from the Pilgrimage."

Lady Mary clasped her hands before her, then turned to the queen, who looked towards the king's chambers with a look of concern. It was then that the chamber doors opened. Jane jumped slightly in surprise. Her bearing eased somewhat at the sight of her husband the king and the ruddiness of his cheeks as he slapped Lord Archibald on the back in a gesture of friendship.

It was then that the queen rushed over towards the king and curtsied deeply. She did not rise until the king bade her do so. Then when she did she reached for Lord Archibald's hands and received a kiss on her cheeks in greeting.

"They are her cousins, both Lord Nathaniel and the departed Lord Tripp Vanderbilt," Lady Mary whispered to Chuck. "The queen seemed most concerned of her cousin's fate. What pleasant surprise, my lord, that everything in court now falls into place. It seems the king had struck a deal with the Catholics from the north." She glowed as she looked at him. "Peace, Lord Arundel, at last."

And so it was that Lord Nathaniel Archibald struck a deal with the king of England, a deal negotiated personally that fulfilled the dreams and ambition of many of the religious north, a cause for which many Vanderbilts had laid their lives for, one that took the life of the last direct Vanderbilt heir. Chuck watched from the center of the court as Nathaniel emerged unsteady on his feet, overwhelmed by the sheer grandness of his achievement.

"Peace from us," he uttered to Chuck when finally they stood almost toe to toe. "Peace from the north, quell the rebellion and dismiss my followers, and the king has agreed that the killing of the priests, the burning of the monasteries would cease. Within the year, the king has acquiesced, to gather Parliament in York." He turned to the Lady Mary, and Chuck confirmed once and for all that the king's eldest living child had as much to do with the greatest threat to Henry's reign as any usurper from abroad or fanatic from the north. "Peace from us, my lady, begets peace from the crown."

"And Cromwell?" Lady Mary whispered.

"The Lord Protector is beyond the reach of justice."

Lady Mary's face fell, and Chuck looked around. "This is not the time and place for a list of your successes, lest others hear. For now, by your leave, I shall away to York and my wife. Her time draws near."

"And the king?" Lady Mary prompted.

"The king would rather I wed a girl he would choose from me than respect vows I have made twofold for the woman I loved long before I married her."

"It comes as no surprise to me, my lord, much as I adore my father."

Nathaniel begged for leave from the king to dismiss his men, which Henry granted happily and with all the bluster of a man who was well aware his word made the world tremble. Eager, and wasting not an hour longer, Chuck started off with Nathaniel in another journey across the treacherous country roads to make haste to York.

The journey was dangerous, arduous. The entire time there was torrential cold rain. Yet rather than stop and seek shelter in the cobblestone cottages or inns from the towns they passed, Chuck and Nathaniel pushed on forward to make York in the shortest possible time. It took too long, even though they made the distance in shorter time than one would think possible. Upon their arrival to Nathaniel's castle in York, Chuck waited for the gates to open with an anxious grip on the reins of his horse.

"I can see you so eager you are stomping at the bit much more than your mare," Nathaniel called to him.

Around them converged several of Nathaniel's men, leaders in their own right during the Pilgrimage that gathered tens of thousands in his estates. Chuck barely listened to the instructions that Nathaniel provided to disband and to send home the men. The moment the gates opened Chuck made to move forward only to find Blair on foot, running towards them in greeting, quick on her feet though heavy with child. Chuck jumped off of the mare and tossed the reins to one of the men, then strode quickly, quicker and quicker with every step, towards his wife.

He met her halfway across the bridgeway, and caught her up in his arms. Chuck whirled her around until they were breathless, the cold damp air making thin the air and fast making him gasp for breath and lowering her to her feet.

As she laughed she raised her lips so that he would warm them with his kiss. Her fingers buried in his hair at the back of his head and she pulled him down for a longer kiss.

"I had feared for you all the time you were away," she whispered to him, holding on tight to his body.

He clasped her hand in his and drew her close to his side as they walked hand in hand into the castle. He knew behind her Nathaniel was thanking the men around him, sending them back to their homes. They had won their bid to be heard by the king, and for all intents and purposes this rebellion was theirs. Henry would come to York and hold Parliament, and they would be able to lay out their grievances and seek for justice in front of the king. It was, for Nathaniel Archibald, the last of the Vanderbilts, just the beginning.

Yet for Chuck it had ended. "I would take you home, but you are too close to term to brave the roads, countess," he told her. "If we leave now, before the king even knows that I have come for you, no one else needs to know that we are together. Arundel is too far from London for Henry to know."

Even as he said it, even as she smiled up at him in agreement, he knew that she knew it would be mere months until the king's men would knock on his door. No one abandoned the king the way he did; no one flouted his will the way he had done.

It was perhaps an entire week that Blair had spent with her husband, and as she grew heavier each day she held onto his arm as he shed the cares of London and the court life. In her smock and a heavy cloak Blair walked the surroundings of the castle and enjoyed looking out the vast expanse of the moorland and the greens that surrounded them. When she was up high looking out at the greens it seemed as if they were in another country, like Henry could not reach them, like they were the only ones that existed.

"Another country," she whispered.

He dropped a kiss on her head, then lifted up her chin. "What did you say, Blair?"

She shook her head. Because he loved Arundel. It all started with Arundel. And she knew it would end with Arundel. She loved Arundel. She would not leave Arundel, or Annie. Or even Anne as she lay in an unmarked grave.

Blair turned away and looked down at the vast empty lands before her, restive it seemed and she wondered if it did not forebode that soon she would give birth. Blair paused at the spasm in her belly that immediately brought her almost to her knees had her husband not been there to support her. From over his shoulder which she gripped almost painfully she saw the long line of armed men coming from the direction of London. She cried out both at the pain of the onset of her labor and the fear.

"Henry!" she gasped by Chuck's ear. "You need to get away!"

His brows drew together. He met her frantic, pained gaze. And then he turned to where she looked and saw what she did. Again, in his arms, she cried out. "I am not leaving you, Blair."

They had come for him, and were it not for the fact that he had her and a child coming he would have proudly surrendered, beheaded for the simple truth that he would not allow the king to dictate who he would take to wife. Chuck lifted up Blair in his arms, winced every time she cried out in pain. He made his way back to the castle and rushed up the stairs to the birthing chamber, calling for the midwife that had been prepared long before.

"They are coming," she sobbed. And even in her pain, Blair grasped Chuck's hand and kissed his palm, over his knuckles, the back of his hand, his wrist. "Please leave. They are to come for you and I cannot bear it."

"I shall not leave you," he told her calmly. Once she had suffered through the indignity of her insides being ripped apart, the agony of a messy, dangerous, painful birth and the death of a child. All alone. "Never again."

It felt like hours. The midwives came, and the servants hung tapestries and shut the drapes, keeping the chambers warm and dark. The arras had been prepared, but not hung yet as the birth had not been expected until Blair went into confinement in another week. It scared him, truly. He knew as much as it was time that the sight of Henry's men brought on the birth.

"They would ask you to leave, Chuck." Her hand tightened around his. "I would that you stay, that I know they have not taken you from me."

He sat by her head and placed a kiss on her sweaty brow. "They shall drag me kicking and screaming or fall at the point of my blade before I leave your side."

The midwife assisted Blair from the bed to the birthing chair. Blair leaned back, yet kept a close eye on Chuck that he would not suddenly be taken by the approaching men. One of the midwives warmed almost oil in her palms and then parted Blair's gown, massaging the oil onto Blair's belly.

There was a pounding knock on the door. Chuck stood to peer outside and the midwife cautioned that the light and cool air not come into the birthing room. "Chuck!"

The birth was progressing quickly. Blair bore down as the pain escalated. One midwife knelt before her while the other kept her hands steady on her stomach, feeling and guiding the position of the child. She screamed. Again, this relentless pounding. Blair opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could, grasping the arms of the birthing chair until her fingers were pried open and she was clutching at Chuck Bass' hand, his other warm around her fist.

The child slipped from her body, and the unfathomable pressure released. She fell back on the birthing chair gasping for breath, her limbs slack and boneless. She turned her head, craning her neck to see the child. The midwife slid a finger to the child's mouth and removed some mucous, then slapped the child's bottom. The child released a howling cry, and to her great joy and embarrassment so did she.

"My child is alive," were the first words from her mouth.

She could not care that the women worked on her between her legs, did not even feel when the afterbirth released. Chuck was beside her, looking at the child and placing a kiss on her temple. "You are a wonder," he whispered to her. "And you were right. You have given me a son."

The frantic knocking continued. The midwife took a linen blanket and draped it over her to give some privacy as they assisted in cleaning her. Chuck drew himself up and away from her reluctantly, then pulled open the door slightly open. Blair watched from her seat as Chuck curtly nodded, then closed the door behind him. He turned back to Blair, who held the bloody child in her arms.

"The king's men?"

Chuck nodded. When Blair tensed, he assured her, "They did not come for me." And then, morosely he continued, "Nathaniel was arrested for treason. The king's men have taken him, and had mentioned not a word of my name."

"Treason," Blair repeated. Anne was tried for treason along with other charges.

"As we made our way home from London to Yorkshire, there was a rising in Cumberland and Westmoreland nor far from here. The king has taken this to mean that Nathaniel has broken their agreement," Chuck said in a daze. Blair held the child closer to her. "It does not matter that he was in London or on the road, with no way to lead another uprising at the time."

"It was a ruse," Blair concluded. "The king agreed to negotiate so that Nathaniel would break apart the pilgrimage and his army would leave him unprotected."

"He was a step ahead of any one of us," Chuck whispered.

She hung her head, then clasped her hands together, a feat considering the newborn in her arms. "I shall pray for his soul," she told Chuck. Blair did not need to wonder if Nathaniel Archibald knew. In those last moments in the church, right before she took the vows to marry Chuck again, a marriage that she was certain would not hold in the eyes of the English law, the pious and the principled last son of the Vanderbilts took his Last Rites.

Some were made for greatness, to take the crown, to achieve in their lifetime all that they could possibly desire and more than they could ever deserve. Like the king.

Some of us were cursed by the very skills that they had, the very power they could take that could so consume them and their hearts full of love. Like Anne.

Some had hearts so big and dreams so grand that they fell in its pursuit, and most calmly would they fall. Blair wanted to believe that that was Nathaniel. From the moment he took Tripp's dream as his, this was truly the only way it could ever end.

And then her cold eyes turned back to Chuck, "When will the travesty of his trial begin?"

~o~o~

Blair stood at the ship, watching England grow small in the horizon. She turned to look behind her when she heard his footsteps, and smiled at the sight of her husband. "Come to say goodbye to England, my lord?" she called loudly so that her voice would carry over the strong wind.

Chuck stopped beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It shall be until I see her again," Chuck answered. "I have left her before and I have come back to her. I can never leave her forever."

The last memory of England she would have, despite Chuck's insistence that she not do so, was standing at the ramparts staring at Nathaniel as he was hoisted up to hang in chains from the walls of York Castle. High treason and the very worst execution that she knew, because she well knew how long it would take for Nathaniel out in the sun and in pain to die of suffocation and dehydration. This was the memory she would carry with her upon her return to the country where she and Anne had first connected, in a court of happy memories. This was the memory that she would hold to her heart and the vision she would return to each time either she or Chuck would be weakened and desire to return to Arundel and Annie's grave.

"Not until Henry is dead and buried," she swore under her breath. "Not one of us would ever set foot on English soil again, Chuck. Not even for Arundel."

His arm around her tightened. "I would that you not carry as much hatred in your heart," he asked her, kissing her shoulder. "We shall begin anew in France, you and me, and little Archibald whom even now Dorota guards in the cabin below."

She looked up at him. "Swear to me now you shall not follow in Anne or Nathaniel's footsteps, and you shall never lay eyes on that king again."

"Swear you will sink your hatred to the bottom of the Channel, and you will not carry it with you to France. Swear that Archibald and I shall have all of you, Blair."

She closed her eyes, let the winds blow against her face, allowing the sea to wash away all the death and all the grief that had visited her the moment she set foot upon England. There were a great many graves that she would walk over in her nightmares—Jack, Annie, Anne, Nathaniel. Yet every one of those graves she would leave in England, every one of those souls helped take her where she was, to the people with whom she was going to pull together the scattered pieces of her heart.

Blair opened her eyes and looked into the clear brown eyes of the man before her. "I swear."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Then so do I swear. The king shall never darken our lives again."

"We shall see Arundel yet," she assured him, "in a year, a decade, or even more. We shall come home to Arundel and the lighthouse, sit in Annie's garden with Archibald. We shall do all this, Chuck, after we dance upon the grave of the king."

fin

Oh and btw, you will find the next historical in the Crossover section within the week. Experimenting with a crossover historical. Much of the plot is already written. I promise it's interesting enough to overcome the weirdness of a crossover historical.


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